The Psychology of Loss
by DracoMalfoy456
Summary: "Life at Jericho Mental Health Facility wasn't as bad as Hank had thought it would be. Sure, the ceiling was more watermarked than it strictly should be, the main TV was old and staticky, and some of the patients made Hank raise both eyebrows, but it had its charm."
1. The Beginning

A/N Hey all! It's been a while! I've been in love with this game for a little while now, so I decided to write for my favorite characters!

This story is almost finished, with over 100,000 words and what will likely be 20 chapters. I don't know why I went with a Mental Health Care Facility AU, other than I'm a psych major and really love Psychology, but I don't really know what goes on in facilities, other than what I've seen on TV and the little I was told in class. So, apologies if my information is inaccurate. I do go into some psychology techniques, and while I take some liberties, what I write is mostly correct for how to deal with these disorders. I think.

Anyway! I hope you like! Please comment and let me know what you think! This story is different to my usual fare, less doom and gloom and more hopeful, so feedback would be appreciated. Constructive Criticism is appreciated, as long as it's nice. Please.

Also! I'll be posting the second chapter tomorrow, to get the exposition out of the way, and then will go on to post once a week, typically on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. :-)

Obligatory "I own nothing but my own ideas," thingy.

Enjoy!

(P.S. I put my drawing of Connor as the title thing, just because I'm proud of how it came out. :-) )

Update: I forgot to mention! This story will have no "smut," or whatever the youth are calling it these days. I just don't really like adding that sort of thing in my stories. So if you're looking for sex, this ain't the fic for you. Sorry!

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Tags:

Relationships:

Hank Anderson/Connor, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Connor & Alice Williams, Connor & Kara, Connor & Luther.

Characters:

Hank Anderson, Connor, North, Markus, Simon, Josh, Rose Chapman, Adam Chapman, Captain Allen, Jeffrey Fowler, Kara, Alice Williams, Luther, Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor/RK900, Richard Perkins

Additional Tags:

Mental Health Care Facility AU, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide Attempt, Depersonalization Disorder, (Mentioned) Child Death, Past Child Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Roommates, Canon-Typical Violence, Government Conspiracy, Human Modifications, Some ableist language, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort

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Summary:

"Life at Jericho Mental Health Facility wasn't as bad as Hank had thought it would be. Sure, the ceiling was more watermarked than it strictly should be, the main TV was old and staticky, and some of the patients made Hank raise both eyebrows, but it had its charm."

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Life at Jericho Mental Health Facility wasn't as bad as Hank had once thought it would be. Sure, the ceiling was more watermarked than it strictly should be, the main TV was old and staticky, and some of the patients made Hank raise both eyebrows, but it had its charm.

When he had first been told he was being sent to a mental hospital, he'd been spitting mad. Well, as mad as one could be while lying in a hospital bed, bandages covering his bullet-hole filled head.

Point was, he'd been livid. He'd told the doctors he was fine, that it had been an "accident," that he just wanted to go home to his dog and forget this whole thing had ever happened. Of course, he probably shouldn't have mentioned that he'd planned on drinking until he passed out to assist in that endeavor, but he had a bit of an excuse called a traumatic head injury.

Despite his anger and rage, he'd been court-ordered to go to the facility for at least a year, possibly (and now definitely) more if he didn't show signs of improvement. He was pretty sure Fowler had made sure of it, the fucker. He'd been sent to the facility as soon as he was deemed street-worthy, a couple weeks after he'd woken from his coma. He had been lucky, the doctors told him. An inch to the right and he wouldn't have survived the bullet. Hank had simply sneered and mentally rejoined that that had been the point.

He'd hated Jericho at first. It looked old and decrepit, the facility falling apart at the seams. While his insurance through the department was pretty decent, it apparently wouldn't cover any state-of-the-art mental healthcare facilities. Hank was pretty sure he'd have hated the place even if it had been state-of-the-art, so he supposed it didn't matter.

He'd also hated the doctors. They'd been too... nice. Too... friendly. Which, admittedly, wasn't the worst thing in the world. But he had thought it was too false. Like they were trying too hard. And all they wanted to talk about were feelings, and his so-... more than that, the volunteers were boring, and the nurses weren't even hot. It was, altogether, unbearable.

And then Markus had shown up. And things had changed for the better.

There hadn't been anything special about Markus at first. Just that he had been a former patient who wanted to fix the place up a bit, help out where he could. He had an associate degree in psychology and a ton of cash inherited from his dead, adoptive father. He also was a revolutionary, a leading figure in the war against police brutality, which Hank privately supported. Even a cop could realize how fucking awful cops could be.

Little by little the facility changed, becoming a brighter, homelier place. While he still hated the doctors, it was nice to talk to Markus every so often, when he had time. The man was surprisingly well-learned and could hold a conversation about anything, even the gruesome cases Hank had seen daily back as a Lieutenant. More so, he actually seemed interested in the details, without seeming false. Simply put, he was a nice dude, helping put Hank at ease.

Today, Hank was in a much better place than he had been all those months ago, a little over a year. He still wasn't free to go, since he refused treatment and still had lapses into deep depression where he'd try and kill himself, but he wasn't as despondent as he'd been when he'd put a fully loaded gun to his head and pulled the trigger. If someone hadn't been walking passed the house and called the police, he'd have died that night. He's still not sure if he was glad that he hadn't or not.

That being said, this view sure was nice, and it would have been a damn shame to miss it. The rose garden outside his window, where he'd been sitting for the past hour, looked beautiful in the sunset. The roses were all dead, the November frost freezing them out, but it was still green and lush, not quite entirely dead yet. And the sunset painted the grounds with a multitude of oranges, reds, and yellows, a beautiful mix of colors. That had been one of Markus's first projects, recreating the rose gardens with the help of the patients, Hank included. While he never had cared much for gardens or green shit, he had felt accomplished after the roses he'd helped plant started to grow, blooming vibrant red, white, and pink. And it sure made a beautiful view.

So, yeah, he decided. Life here wasn't that bad. He had no roommate to bother him, after his last roommate left the facility months ago, and was kept busy with Markus's music, art, and Literature classes. Again, he'd never been interested in the stuff before coming to Jericho, but Markus was strangely compelling with his classes, his earnest and supportive personality instantly creating a welcoming environment that made the classes fun, in a way.

Hank stared out the window for a little while longer, only looking away when he heard an orderly knock on the door and say that it was time for dinner. With a soft groan, Hank hauled his aging body out of the chair and lazily made his way out of the room. When he'd first gotten there, it had surprised him how much freedom they had in the facility, as used to the jail system as he was. But, it wasn't a prison, though it had felt like it at times. The patients were given many liberties, able to walk freely, go to breakfast, lunch, and dinner at their own leisure, and were not forced to do anything, unless they were seen as a threat to themselves or others. It was... nice, not at all how he'd thought the facility would be.

After arriving at the dining hall, Hank got a plate of the food offered (Chinese, which Markus had gotten added to the menu after Hank had hounded him about it for weeks), and sat down at a table by himself, digging into the food. He wasn't upset at being alone; far from it, actually. He preferred his solitude, which is why he'd hated his former roommate, and why the facility hadn't been rushing to fill the vacancy. He'd never been a social butterfly, but after... well, / _after_ /, he'd been particularly asocial. He hadn't wanted to be around anyone, just wanting to be left alone. It unfortunately caused him to push away his only friends, but he hadn't cared. Life was dark and bitter. Friends wouldn't help him anymore. Even now, improved though he was, he still liked solitude.

That didn't mean he didn't listen, though. If there was one truth about the world, it's that people were nosy. And mental health care patients were no exception. Today, the facility was buzzing with talk about the new patient, who everyone was very curious about. The man had yet to officially arrive at the facility, but he'd been seen a couple times over the past week, sparking rumors about who the man was and why he was there. Hank was pretty sure there was a betting pool going on among the saner members, about what the man was in for.

As Hank ate, he listened to the conversations around him, musing on what he heard. All he had learned about the man over the past week was that it was, indeed, going to be a man, with dark hair and dark eyes; tall, with good, if freckled, skin and "pillowy lips." At least, that's what Old Margaret said, though she was known for being a bit over the top. Honestly, it wasn't much to go by, which rubbed the detective in Hank wrong.

Even after all his time in the facility, he couldn't get away from the detective inside him. He had become a cop mostly because his piece of shit father hadn't left him much of a choice, but he'd found that he really loved it. He'd become the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history, busting multiple drug dealers and trafficking rings. His crown jewel in his record was the massive red ice operation he had put an end to, several years ago. Despite the hardships of the job, he'd been good at it, and adored it. So, whenever he heard of a new rumor, no matter how insignificant, he chased it. He had even been able to catch a nurse who had been stealing drugs from patients to sell illegally, which had left him feeling satisfied for weeks.

With this in mind, Hank resolved to find out more about the new patient, before the man arrived. Call him curious, call him nosy, but he truly had nothing better to do with his time, so he might as well do something, right? Finishing his food, Hank casually got up and threw the trash away, loitering around the trashcan to listen in on more conversations. Chances were he'd not learn any more out here, but it could never be said that listening for information wasn't worth a try before bringing out the harder methods.

After a few minutes of nothing, Hank sighed, running his hand through his long hair, fingers catching on the scar that was still there, and always would be. Grumbling to himself, he left the room and went to the common room, where a handful of patients lingered, watching TV or playing games. It was time to pull out the big guns.

The room itself wasn't that great, he thought with distaste as he walked through. It was a reasonably large space, but that was one of its only good attributes. The room was filled with old, stained plastic tables and chairs, with a scattering of torn books, games with missing pieces, old magazines, yellowed newspapers, and crusty art supplies. There were a couple of fucking ugly pea green couches in the center with mysterious stains on them, facing an aging TV screen that worked only half the time, and a handful of matching armchairs scattered about. There was also a Baby Grand in the corner, courtesy of Markus, which Hank could sort of play (also courtesy of Markus, and his music classes). Though, he supposed that was another plus about the room, eyes glancing at the beauty.

He snorted, however, when he saw a patient sitting in front of the piano, staring blankly at the keys. Hank did his best not to judge the patients here, after his doctor had gently reprimanded him for his, admittedly, rude comments towards his fellows. But it still baffled him at what some patients would do. But he supposed he was lucky. Had his bullet passed through the brain any differently, maybe he'd be the same as old Luther, staring at piano keys, eyes blank and sightless as the horrors played inside his mind.

Hank shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to his intended destination, the nurses' station attached to the room. While the HIPPA laws forbad doctors and nurses from conversing with patients about other patients, it didn't stop them from taking to one another. And while they were supposed to talk in privacy, away from prying ears, they were careless sometimes. Good for Hank and his prying ways, bad for the doctor-patient confidentiality bullshit.

Casually leaning against the wall beside the station, Hank flipped through an old newspaper he'd read last week, not bothering to read the words, just listening in. The last few days hadn't brought much information, but he was willing to try before he got himself in trouble breaking into the station to look at the files. Not that he would, of course. He was a cop, or had been, and he wasn't planning on breaking laws if he didn't have to. If this didn't work, he'd likely ask Markus about it next time he saw him, probably tomorrow. Or maybe Simon. Markus was smart and didn't fall for Hank's interrogation techniques, but Simon was trusting and tended to be more susceptible.

However, he didn't have to go that far, because within a few minutes of standing around, he'd hit pay dirt.

With a grin, hidden by the paper, Hank listened in as some nurses chatted about the new patient, not realizing that Hank was listening in.

"Hey, have you guys heard about the new patient we're getting? His name is Connor Stern, transferring here from the DPD holding cells. Strange, isn't it?" Nurse number one (Hank couldn't be bothered to learn their names, it was lucky he even knew a few of the volunteer's names) mentioned, giving Hank a new piece of information. Connor, huh?

"I know, right? It's been a while since we got a patient transferred from the DPD. I wonder what he'll be like? I mean, I hear he's polite, but, well... you never know, with abuse cases," a second nurse chimed in, voice going soft at the end.

"Poor kid," nurse number one mused. While he couldn't see the nurse, he could practically hear the sad frown.

"I know right? I can't imagine what he went through."

"Spending your whole life under the thumb of a controlling mother, forced to act perfect or get... readjusted or tested on medically..." the first nurse paused, a small shudder evident, "it sounds horrible. I don't blame the poor kid for what he did."

A third voice popped up after that, a snort filling the silence. "Come on guys, seriously? You feel sorry for the kid? He tried to kill Markus! He had a gun out and everything. He should be sent to jail, not here. He's probably going to cause problems, maybe even harm the other patients. I don't trust him."

Hank scowled at he recognized the voice. North. A vaguely unpleasant lady who hated his guts. Probably because when they first met, he'd mocked her for her pole dancing classes, but, well, he'd been in a bad place at the time. And even though he had apologized sheepishly later, it had been enough to make her hate him. And the feeling was pretty mutual. God knew what Markus saw in her.

"Come on, North, I'm sure he won't be that bad," number two said. "They wouldn't send anyone dangerous to the facility. Markus wouldn't have requested he come here if he was dangerous. You know how much Markus loves this place, he'd never endanger it."

A sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Still, you know how trusting Markus is. The guy tried to kill him, and he still does his best to help him out. Only Markus, right?"

After that the conversation moved on to the man in question, North getting that dreamy tone to her voice that creeped Hank out. But he'd gotten more than enough information to satisfy him, so, with a happy sigh, he brought down the paper and made to leave the common area to head back to his room, to muse over the info he'd just gotten.

However, when his eyes lifted from the paper, Hank let out an unmanly yelp he would later refuse to admit he made, as he saw the politely grinning face of Markus in front of him. While the man tried to look innocent, Hank knew he was pleased as punch that he'd startled the old detective.

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid! Don't sneak up on me like that! I'm not in my fucking 20's here," Hank exclaimed softly, so as to not alert the nurses and North that he had been listening. He scowled as Markus's sly grin got larger.

"Sorry Hank, I didn't mean to startle you. I had thought a detective like you would have heard me coming. My mistake. I'll be sure to be louder, next time."

That little shit, Hank thought fondly, shaking his head. Doing his best not to let the fond smile show through, Hank put on an exaggerated scowl.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'm old. Now what do you want? You're usually not here on Thursdays."

That much was true. Markus only came to the facility on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and the odd weekend. Thursdays were not a day he usually came in. With a frown, Hank squinted at Markus as the man shrugged, smile still on his face.

"What, can't I come in to spend time with my favorite patient?"

Hank knew Markus was just teasing, knowing that he didn't play favorites, but it did make him feel a touch of pride. He hadn't been anyone's favorite, even jokingly, in a very long time. Still, Hank didn't let it show and just scowled harder.

"Bullshit. What's up, Markus? Something new happening? You finally replacing that fucking TV? Or is this about the new guy?" Hank was curious but tried hard not to let it show. It never did any good to seem eager for answers. Scowl firmly in place, he watched as Markus faltered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe. What are you doing by the wall, reading the paper I watched you read last week?"

Markus turned the conversation on Hank, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised, a picture of soft disappointment. Hank just grunted, rolling his eyes. He thought about denying things but decided against it. He was getting tired and wanted to go to bed. He mentally cut off the 'old man' jokes his mind started to make, shrugging at Markus.

"Not my fault these idiots can't respect their own ethical codes. I didn't even have to ask any questions, they just started blabbing like idiots," Hank snorted, finally grinning, which still felt foreign on his lips. He never had much to smile about these days, except for the one day a week that Ben kindly brought Sumo over to visit, which was easily the highlight of his week that Hank would never be able to repay Ben for. The man said it was no big deal, but Hank knew the man hadn't really cared for dogs before he'd agreed to watch Sumo while Hank was away. He knew Ben adored Sumo now, but it hadn't been easy for the man at first. Distracted by thoughts of his dog and old friend, Hank almost missed Markus's disapproving head shake, but he didn't miss the fond smile on the man's lips.

"That doesn't mean you have to eavesdrop, though. It's not polite to listen into other people's conversations, you know," Markus gently reprimanded, leading Hank to grin in response.

"Do I look like a man who cares about being polite?"

Markus laughed quietly, nodding slightly.

"Alright Hank. I should probably get going, let the nurses and North know that they should be careful what they say where patients can hear them. I'll see you tomorrow for Literature class, okay?"

Markus was about to turn to leave, when Hank remembered what he wanted to know from the man.

"Wait! Can you at least tell me if what they said is true? Did the new guy really pull a gun on you?" Hank tried not to sound concerned but feared that he didn't hide it well enough when Markus, instead of tensing, got a soft look on his face.

"Hank, you know I can't tell you about other patients. I may not be a doctor or nurse, but I still have to respect HIPPA," Markus chided gently, but didn't sound upset. Damn Markus, with his too nice, too charming personality. Hank rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But technically he's not a patient yet. And I'm just a guy concerned about his fr- another guy. Sue me." He rolled his eyes again, trying to stop the flush from rising on his face. He didn't have friends, here. He didn't care about other people anymore. So he told himself.

Still, Markus grinned at that, knowing what Hank was about to say. With a sigh, Markus looked around before leaning into Hank's space.

"Alright. Let's say, theoretically, a guy who might become a new patient here, may or may not have pulled a gun at me right before a speech I was giving on police brutality. And I may, or may not, have talked him down and learned that he needed help, not jail, so I, maybe, hypothetically, didn't press charges but asked that he be sent here to Jericho instead. That good enough for you?" Markus asked, eyebrows raised, soft half smile on his lips. His heterochromatic eyes were troubled, though, which is how Hank knew the situation bothered the younger man. Deciding not to press anymore, he nodded slowly and sent a half smile back. Then he pushed away from the wall with a soft grunt.

"Yeah, that's good. Thanks, Mark. See you tomorrow during Literature."

With that, Hank walked out of the room, leaving Markus to go put some sense into the nurses (and North, though he wouldn't be as harsh with her. While they were not dating, to Hank's knowledge, he knew it was only a matter of time. God knew what Markus saw in North, but to each their own, yeah?). It didn't take long to get to his room, where he immediately went into the private bathroom to scrub the grime from the day off. While he'd mostly spent the day in his room, Markus had convinced him to try North's slower paced dance group that morning, which he'd hated with a passion. Still, it was something to do, he supposed. It had left him all gross and sweaty, though, and even the lukewarm water was heaven when washing the sweat away. He may also have gotten some tension out by squeezing one out, quickly.

Once done, Hank returned to bed and laid down on his back, wondering about the info he'd learned. It was a good amount, he reasoned, musing on the mysterious "Conner." He'd apparently attacked Markus, but Markus hadn't pressed charges because he thought the man needed help. While a compassionate man, Hank knew Markus wouldn't help Connor out unless Connor deserved the help. The second nurse was right, Markus loved Jericho with all his being. He's never let the place be endangered by anyone, even if he had sympathy. Connor would be an interesting one to observe, Hank thought as he closed his eyes and tried to drift to sleep.

At least he wouldn't be bored for a little while, eh?


	2. Meet Cute

Chapter 2: Meet Cute.

Hey all! So here's the second chapter. Hank and Connor meet, so that's good! Right?

Anyway, next update will hopefully be on Sunday. Probably at night, but who knows, yeah?

Enjoy!

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Connor looked up at the sign for Jericho Mental Health Facility with a mild sense of trepidation in his stomach. This wasn't the first time he had been to the facility, but it would be the last time he'd be entering as a guest, not as a patient.

Part of him felt annoyed at this all. He had failed his mission, the first time he had ever done that. He always completed his mission. Always. Amanda saw to that.

But this time he had failed. He had hesitated too long. He'd had to kill a few people in his past, but it was always heat of the moment. It was Amanda, who insisted on what he did, telling him what to do. And he'd always listened. But something about that man, the look on his face... the work he was doing... it had made Connor pause, long enough for the man to plant seeds of doubt. Markus, was his name. Markus, who fought for equality, for freedom for his people. Markus, who fought against violence and hatred. Markus, who had such kind, mismatched eyes, staring deep into what was left of his soul. If he had ever had one. Sometimes, when he was alone and allowed to think for himself, he wondered if he was a robot. An android, pretending he was alive. It would make sense, he felt.

And so he had let the gun fall, letting Markus go. Why, he wondered? He'd never failed his mission before. He knew what Amanda would do if he did. Hell, he was afraid of what she was going to do when he eventually got out of this facility. Well, he would be afraid, if he had feelings. Which he was 90% sure he didn't. Amanda said he didn't. Said he was supposed to be a good soldier, supposed to follow orders from the Company. He didn't know who ran the Company, or what the Company did, but he knew he had to follow the orders. Or else... or else.

Shaking slightly, though he didn't know why, Connor followed the kind African American officer into the facility, only allowing himself the briefest of pauses at the sign to swallow the emotion within him. He wasn't allowed to feel. He wasn't allowed to fail, either.

Maybe he could still finish his mission, he thought briefly, recalling the fact that Markus apparently worked for this facility. It was strange, Conner felt, that the heterochromatic man would allow the person who tried to kill him to stay in the facility he worked in, but he supposed nothing could be said for intelligence. That was something to keep in mind, he thought as they walked through the old double doors, mentally making a note. Thanks to Amanda's… tests, he had perfect memory recall. He tried not to think about the scars that littered his scalp, under the thick head of curly brown hair. Scars from little… _experiments_ people from the Company had done. They didn't hurt much anymore, though they would twinge occasionally.

Pretty soon the two men reached reception, where a smiling woman was sitting behind a cruddy, run down desk, with an ancient computer and landline phone sitting on it. Connor remained emotionless as the kind officer smiled at the lady.

"Officer Chris Miller, here with Conner Stern. I know we're a little early, so I understand if we have to wait a bit," Officer Miller said sheepishly, with a kind smile. The lady just smiled back, before typing a note on the ancient computer.

"Oh, it's no worries, Officer. Markus wanted to be here personally to welcome Connor, so I'll just send him a note so he can come as soon as he can. I think he's with his class right now, but he should be done within ten minutes. Feel free to take a seat or wander around if you'd like."

Part of Connor wanted to wander around, curious about his new surroundings, but Officer Miller just nodded and directed him towards the shabby seating in the waiting area. Conner went and took a seat, restless energy making him sit tensely upright, like he had a stick in his ass. Before Officer Miller joined him, the man turned back to the lady, a sheepish look on his face.

"Oh! Before I forget, would you be able to give another patient a gift from me? I used to work with Lieutenant Hank Anderson and, while I don't have time to visit today, I promised him I'd bring some of my wife's cookies next time I came, as well as pictures of my baby. Would you be able to give them to him?" Officer Miller asked, beguiling, a pleasant smile on his lips. The lady returned the smile and nodded quickly. Connor filed the name 'Lieutenant Hank Anderson' away, just in case it became useful later.

"Yes, of course! I'm sure Hank will love the cookies. Would you mind if saw the pictures of your baby, though? I absolutely love children."

After that the two chatted, the woman cooing over the baby photos. After a few seconds of this, Conner grew bored and began looking around the small room he was in.

All things considered, it was not a nice place. The wallpaper was peeling, the ceiling had a huge water mark with possible early signs of mold (perhaps a flood? Maybe the roof leaked, and the Detroit storms had left the ceiling unprotected. He made a note to look into that later, if he had time), and the room had poor lighting, making it a muted grey tone. Likely at one point the room had had white walls and carpets that had faded over time to be a muddied grey. There were some pictures on the wall, mostly of smiling people. Old patients? Current patients? He didn't know. There were credentials on the walls for the leading doctors, one of whom graduated from Yale. That was impressive from such a rundown place. There was another board with pictures on it, with the word VOLUNTEERS over it with red, bubble letters. He recognized one of the faces on the wall, and abruptly stood up to get a closer look, forgetting about Officer Miller and the cooing lady.

Walking closer, Conner frowned as he looked at the smiling face of Markus Manfred. His one failure. The man looked happy, Connor noted absently, eyes roving the smiling face. He'd failed in killing this man. Why? No, Connor had never killed in cold blood before, but it was what he was trained for. What he was made for. To follow orders and do what he was told. But he hadn't with Markus. Was it something about the man, or was it something about Connor? He hoped it was the man. Because if it was Markus's fault, then Connor could work around it, learn to get over it. But if the fault ran in Conner himself… Connor pushed the thought away. It wouldn't do to dwell on that. He'd spend the time the court said he had to spend in the facility (6 months minimum, though a possibility for a longer or shorter stay), and then he'd go back to his mission. If Amanda still wanted him, that was. She had been so disappointed when he'd called from the jail, making sure he knew how disappointed she truly was. He hated it when he disappointed her, so he'd have to make it up to her. Maybe if he killed Markus in the facility? … No, they'd just arrest him and he'd be in jail forever. It would be best to wait until he was out.

But… but, he could still find out information about Markus while in here. Perhaps try and befriend the man, to figure out where he had gone wrong? That sounded like a good plan, Connor decided, nodding his head once. He marked that as his new objective. _**Learn more about Markus**_.

For now, he kept staring at the picture, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. For a second, he thought it was Officer Miller, so he turned to see what the man wanted. He was mildly surprised when, instead of Miller, he came face to face with mismatched eyes, with a kind twinkle in them.

"Admiring the photos? They put them up so that family members can figure out who are volunteers and who are doctors and nurses," Markus mentioned kindly, a soft half smile on his face. Connor had a feeling Markus knew which picture he was looking at. If he were capable of it, he had a feeling he'd be embarrassed. As it was, he just nodded once, looking back at the photos with a tilt of his head.

"Yes. I suppose that would be helpful here. Who are these other people?" Connor questioned, keeping his voice even. It wasn't hard to do so, but he did feel a spark of unease when faced with the man he had tried to kill, and was still, possibly, planning on killing. But, if he wanted to clear his self-created new objective, he had to start somewhere.

Markus just grinned, before naming the other smiling people in the other photos. He pointed to one of them, with a woman with short blonde hair and a young girl with long black hair, both smiling widely at the camera.

"Her name is Kara. She and her adopted daughter Alice come in sometimes to read to the patients. Alice is particularly attached to one of our newer patients, a man named Luther. His name-" Markus pointed to another photo of a medium height, sneering man with dusty brown hair- "is Gavin. He's a bit on the rude side, but he's good with the tougher cases. He volunteers on the weekends or occasionally on some evenings, when he finishes work at the DPD."

Markus continued down the line of photos, pointing out each person and giving a little fact about them. Most were uninteresting, until he got to a blonde-haired man, with sad, drooping eyes. Markus's eyes turned fond as he pointed to the man, mouth slanted in a half smile. Interesting reaction, Connor noted.

"This is one of my best friends. His name is Simon, and he used to be a patient here, like me. So did Josh-" finger pointed to a picture of an African American man- "and North-" another photo, this one of an unamused looking woman with long brown hair, likely dyed, with one shoulder exposed as her shirt drifted downward. "Simon helps out with the more depressed or anxious patients, offering meditation classes to help with overwhelming emotions. I think you and him would get along well. Josh helps with the more serious affairs, assisting with the catatonic patients, helping them get fresh air. And North..." Markus paused before smiling widely. Connor noted that in his memory as well. "North helps with physical activity, running a few dance classes.

"Altogether, the volunteers here help run classes and activities for the patients, or else assisting the nurses and doctors with caring for the patients. I, myself, run music, art, and Literature classes, once a week each, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Monday is music day, Wednesday is art, and Friday is Literature. I'd be very pleased if you decided to come to one of my classes, if you'd like. I promise they're not boring."

Markus grinned widely, a beguiling look on his face. Connor ignored how his stomach turned at the expression, so similar to the one that Markus wore that night that Connor had tried to… tried to murder the man. Connor hid his slight flinch by nodding slowly.

"Yes, I suppose that would be adequate."

Markus laughed slightly at that, which Connor found strange. He hadn't said anything funny, had he? But then Markus clapped him on the shoulder and directed him to the door to the right of reception. Officer Miller was standing there, watching the two with a detached look on his face, though the pleasant smile was still there.

"Thank you, Officer, for bringing Connor here. Would you like to come and see him settled, or would you like to leave him to us?"

Officer Miller smiled again, nodding his head slightly.

"I'll see him in, since I'm already here. It's my duty to see him settled, as well," the man said pleasantly. Markus only nodded, smiling back. Everyone was smiling. Should Connor smile too? He considered it but decided against it. His smiles never looked right, people told him.

"I'll be sure to keep this brief, then. Come on, follow me."

The man led the way through the facility, pointing out the important rooms. Despite how shabby it was, it seemed a decent facility. They had a gym (which had no equipment, just a couple poles and yoga mats), an art room, a music room, a common room with a baby grand piano in it (which Connor was pleased at. He didn't play piano often, as it was seen as unnecessary, but he had been taught when young for dexterity purposes and found he did enjoy it), a library full of shabby books, an outdoor rose garden (which he also enjoyed, reminding him of Amanda and their walks, some of the only good memories he had of the woman), and a small outdoor pool. It was empty now, with the cold, but it seemed nice enough. As they headed in to finally head to Connor's room, Officer Miller piped up for the first time in half an hour.

"Hank! Hey man, it's good to see you!"

Hank. Connor recalled the officer mentioning the name beforehand and turned to see who the mysterious Hank was.

A tall man, taller than even Connor (who at six foot was pretty tall), came into view. The man had silver hair, likely blonde in his youth, that went down to his shoulders. His beard was long, but well maintained, and his light blue eyes were weathered, but lit up at seeing the officer. Friends, Connor assumed, feeling a pang at the thought. He'd never had a friend, but he hadn't needed one. Technically he had brothers and sisters, others that Amanda took care of and trained, but none he was close to. Well, apart from one, but he was even more detached from his emotions than Connor was. Pushing the thought away, Connor watched the reunion between the two. The older gentleman, likely in his early fifties, came forward and quickly hugged the officer, patting his back roughly.

"Miller, you bastard, what are you doing here? You don't usually visit except on the odd weekend."

Despite the insult and use of the last name, Hank sounded very pleased, almost happy to see the other man. Officer Miller chuckled and thumped Hank equally hard on the back.

"Watch it old man. I'm here to bring a patient from custody to this facility here. I brought my wife's cookies and pictures of Damian, like you asked, but left them at reception since I wasn't sure I'd see you. I'm glad I did. It's been too long, man."

"Yeah, well, whose fault is that? Not like I'm going anywhere," Hank grumbled, eyes darkening somewhat, before moving over to land on Connor. The silver haired man froze when he saw Connor, looking him up and down slowly, an odd look in his eye. Connor couldn't tell if Hank was eyeing him in a good or bad manner. He supposed it didn't matter, either way.

After a second, Hank's eyes fell to Markus, a frown on his face, exaggerating the frown lines. The man must frown a lot, Connor noted, but then noticed some deep laugh lines. He must smile a lot, too Connor reasoned, but found it hard to see the serious man smiling often. Even when seeing his old friend he hadn't smiled.

"Hey Mark. This the guy you were talkin' about. The one who..." Hank trailed off, but the significant look between Connor and Markus made it clear what he was talking about. Connor tried not to shift uncomfortably, making sure his face betrayed no emotion. Hank eyed him strangely, making him wonder what the older man was thinking.

"Hank, you know I prefer being called Markus. And this is Connor, the new patient here at Jericho," Markus said pointedly, eyeing Hank heavily. It was like he was communicating without speech. Hank nodded slowly, all traces of happiness gone. Left was a serious expression, almost stormy. Connor tried not to feel intimidated, and almost succeeded. Markus continued speaking. "Connor, this is Hank Anderson, former Lieutenant from the DPD homicide unit. I hope you two can get along over the next few months."

Hank nodded slowly, a darker look filling his eyes at the mention of his former employment. A scowl was deep on his face as he stepped forward toward Connor. Connor fought the urge to take a step back, and merely looked the man deep in the eye, head tilted slightly up.

"So. You're Connor, eh? Not what I was expecting. Some goddamn twink with no expression. Huh."

Connor tilted his head to the side and frowned.

"And what was it you were expecting, Lieutenant?" He wasn't sure why he brought up the man's former employment when it was an obvious sore spot, but part of Connor enjoyed watching the storm rage in those murky blue eyes. He watched as Hank clenched his jaw tightly, the scowl deepening.

"Not sure. But definitely not… this." He said the word 'this' like it was a curse, foul and bitter. Like he had judged and found Connor wanting. For reasons unknown to him, Connor felt a stab of… something hit him. Disappointment? But why? Why should he care about this man he just met? A man who was so embittered, yet looked happy when seeing old friends, and had laugh lines that looked like they hadn't been used in years? What did this man mean to him? Nothing, he concluded, and filed the disappointment away.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Lieutenant." Cool. Detached. Not engaging, like Amanda had programmed into him. There were times to engage, and times to let it go. Now was a time to let it go. This… _Hank_ , meant nothing to him. Just a distraction on his way to his room. With emotionless eyes, Connor watched as Hank scowled, somehow, deeper, the wrinkles more pronounced than ever, making the man look twice his age. Their eyes met and held for several long seconds, Hank's angry and Connor's detached.

Before either could say anything else, Markus cleared his throat, smiling pleasantly when the two individuals locked in a fierce staring contest finally broke apart to look at the mixed-race man. Despite the smile, Connor noticed a bit of tension in his eyes, darting between the two men.

"If you two are done, I still have to show Connor to his room, before helping out with dinner. It was nice to see you Hank, be sure to share some of those cookies Officer Miller got you with me, alright?" Markus smiled, eyes crinkling when Hank rolled his eyes.

"Like Hell. Chris's wife makes the best damn cookies, and I sure as Hell ain't giving any up. Anyway, I'll see you later, Markus." Hank looked pointedly at Connor, scowled again, before turning and stomping off, the obvious slight clear even to Connor, who could be oblivious to the finer parts of human nature. Connor frowned, wondering why it bothered him at all, a soft ache briefly entering his heart. He pushed it away and cleared it from his mind, turning to Markus with blank eyes.

"Should we keep going?" Connor asked, eyes pulled together in question. He had found that moving his eyes and eyebrows slightly made people feel more comfortable around him. When trying to get information, it was important to make the individual feel safe and at ease. It seemed to have the desired effect, as the slight tension left the man's face, leaving Markus with a soft smile as he nodded.

"Yes, of course. We're not too far from your new room. Of course, you will have a roommate, but you have a private bathroom and a great view of the rose garden. I thought you would like that."

Markus smiled again, but the tension had returned somewhat, lingering in the eyes. Connor did his best not to frown and instead just nodded for Markus to keep going.

Markus slowly began walking, going in the direction Hank stormed off in. Connor thought that Markus might be feeling a bit hesitant, which was interesting. Connor hadn't seen Markus be hesitant before, even when he had drawn his gun on the man. But now he seemed almost like he didn't want to keep going. Why was he afraid of taking Connor to his room?

Finally, after a long minute of walking the not very long hallway, they stopped in front of a door labeled room 80.

"So! Here's your new room Connor. I assure you it's very nice and should fit your needs very well. One of the nurses will come and get you tomorrow morning for your first meeting with Dr. Rose. Dinner will be served in about an hour, but feel free to come later, as dinner is served warm from 6:00-8:00 PM. After that you can still get food, but it might be cold. Curfew starts at 10:00 PM and ends at 6:00 AM each day. Any questions?"

Before he could respond, he heard a sound to his side. Softly, so that Connor almost hadn't heard it, Officer Miller cursed under his breath. Connor started to frown, but stopped halfway through, turning to face the suddenly paler Officer.

"You've got to be kidding me," Officer Miller muttered under his breath, eyes wide. Connor was confused and was about to question it when Markus sighed, a grimace on his face.

"This was the last room available," Markus muttered back, shrugging. Connor detected a hint of a lie but didn't call it out. He was too confused. What was wrong with the room? Hadn't Markus said it was a nice room with a good view of the garden?

"We might as well get this over with," Markus continued, before knocking quickly on the door. After a moment the door opened up, and Connor felt his heart clench when he realized he knew the pissed off face staring back at them. Now he understood Officer Miller's and Markus's hesitation.

"What do you want, Markus? Forget something in the five seconds since we've been apart?" Hank drawled sardonically, angry eyes darting to Connor. Connor wasn't sure what he did to piss the old Lieutenant off so much, but it was clear the older man did not like him. Markus grimaced slightly, before putting on a fake smile.

"Well, here's the thing Hank. The place is a bit short on rooms at the moment, with those new patients from that abandoned theme park outside town. This is the last room we really have that is available. So..." Markus trailed off, wincing at the murderous look on the other man's face. Even Conner is a bit frightened and he's never afraid. Well. So he's told himself.

"You mean to say that I have to share a room with this cocksucker? Is that what you're fucking implying here, Markus?" Hank's voice was low and gravelly, and Connor felt a pool of heat rise in his belly. He frowned at the sensation, wondering why his body reacted that way. He pushed it to the side to think on later. Now he had to contend with Hank's murderous glare landing on him, making him shiver involuntarily. A draft must have come into the room. That was it.

"Hank, I'm sorry. You knew you couldn't be alone forever."

"Yeah, but this fucker?! Come on Markus! I'd take anyone else. Not this piece of shit."

Hank scowled at Connor, and Connor felt like scowling back. But the feeling was irrational, no reason to scowl, so all he did was stare blankly back like he'd been trained. He couldn't push down the feeling of annoyance, though. Great. Not only must he contend with being in this facility, but he must also deal with an embittered roommate. Wonderful. He ignored the flutter in his stomach as he thought about it, definitely not because he felt excited to have a challenge to work on during his stay here. It was a stomach bug. He'd have to drink orange juice to bolster his immune system, then.

"Connor isn't that bad, Hank. Give him a chance. I think you'll come to like him if you let yourself try."

Hank snorted. "Yeah, like I liked the last roommate you gave me? The guy tried to set me on fire, for Christ's sake!"

Connor felt his lips turn upward at that and had the idea to maybe try and mend things between him and Hank. After all, his mission of learning more about Markus could only be helped if he wasn't at odds with his roommate, right?

So, with his best attempt at a smile, Connor dipped his head in acknowledgement and claimed, "I assure you, Lieutenant, that I will endeavor to not set you on fire."

He wasn't sure if it was the fact he had called the man Lieutenant, if it was the joke, or if it was the pitiful attempt at a smile, but Hank hadn't seemed impressed. In fact, he almost looked angrier. Uh oh.

"Fuck you. I'm headed to the library, and he better be fucking gone by the time I get back, Markus, or I swear I'll hunt you down. I'm not sharing with this asshole."

With that, Hank stormed away for the second time that day, slamming into Connor on his way out. Officer Miller looked awkward, while Markus looked a touch frustrated. After a moment of silence, Markus sighed and gestured toward the door. They walked forward, entering the room together.

"Despite what he says, you still have to stay here. For now, at least. I wish I could stay and help you get settled, but dinner prep starts in five minutes and I'm needed. Let me know if you ever need anything, alright? Just open the door and ask an orderly and I'll be here as soon as I can, even if I'm not at the facility that day, okay?" Markus waited for Connor to nod, before nodding and continuing. "Alright! So, I hope the rest of your day goes well and you settle in nicely here. You'll have individual sessions with Dr. Rose two days a week and group session three days a week. You're allowed to do whatever you want between sessions, though we recommend joining one or two of the classes we offer here, if only to give yourself something to do. As I said, you ever need anything, just ask. I'm not here every day, but if you really need me, I can come as soon as possible. Any questions?"

Connor shook his head, suddenly too tired and troubled to care. He could ask questions later if needed. Markus smiled back and said goodbye, leaving Connor and Officer Miller standing in the small but messy room. In his daze he hadn't even had time to analyze the room properly. Oh well. He could do that after he slept. Before he could head to the unoccupied bed, which had fresh looking sheets on it, Officer Miller cleared his throat.

"Look. Uh, I know Hank can be a handful, but he's a really great guy once you get passed his gruff nature. He's just pissed 'cause he's not alone anymore. Give him time and he'll come around, I'm sure of it," he paused, before lighting up, a smile on his face. "Oh, but if you want to quicken the process, you'll want to get Hank some booze. They don't allow much alcohol in this place, only the rare champagne or wine on holidays, but you get Hank some hard liquor, a nice whiskey or bourbon, and he'll be your friend for life. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Connor. Don't let Hank scare you, he's all bark no bite. Usually."

With that, Officer Miller waved goodbye and took off, presumably towards the exit. Connor barely had energy to wave goodbye in return.

As he headed to his bed, eyes glazed, Connor thought about what Officer Miller had said. With a sardonic smile, Connor face planted into the bed, and thought sarcastically that it was a great idea.

But where the hell would he find alcohol in a place like this?


	3. Making Amends

Another day, another chapter.

Hey all! New chapter up. Hope y'all like!

* * *

Chapter 3: Making Amends

It had been a while since Hank had been this pissed off.

After storming out of the room like a dramatic preteen girl, Hank had indeed gone to the library, but quickly left again after a few minutes of angrily shuffling through some pages.

He wasn't even sure why he was so angry, he thought as he paced the halls unseeingly. It was just that the moment he had seen Connor, something in him burned brightly and it rubbed him the wrong way. Something about his goofy face and his weird voice just pissed the man off. It might have something to do with the fact he tried to kill Markus, the only decent guy in the facility, but Hank thought it ran deeper. After all, he hadn't been too disturbed the other night. It was different, more visceral. Something about Connor rubbed him wrong, made him defensive.

Maybe it was his creepy, blank stare. Not many people had such a blank face and were actually really decent people. It wasn't like Luther, who had blank eyes, but it was clear he was hiding deep pain inside. No. This kid, / _Connor_ /, purposely hid his emotions. And that rubbed him wrong.

What was it those blabbermouth nurses had said about Connor? That he'd been an abuse case, controlled by his adoptive mother? Maybe that was what made him so blank, Hank mused, as he passed the door to the music room. He stopped abruptly after a second, before peering into the room. Upon seeing it empty, he headed inside and went to the old piano in the corner. While not as good as the baby grand, it was a solid piano, which Hank had first began learning to play on about 6 months ago, when he finally agreed to join Markus's music class. While he wasn't good, it helped calm his thoughts well enough.

With non-practiced hands, Hank let his fingers fumble with the keys. He let out a few chords before trying a simple melody. It sounded a bit wonky to his ears, but it wasn't bad. After a few minutes of fiddling with the piano, Hank sighed and thought about Connor again. The anger he had felt before rose once more, causing him to take a deep breath.

Whatever the reason, he didn't like the kid. Something about Connor bugged him. He didn't know what, exactly, but it was something. And now he had to share a room with him.

Fuck. He knew that despite his dramatic demand that he'd still have to share the room. And he wasn't going to be upset with Markus over it. It wasn't the volunteer's fault. Markus didn't make the room selections, so yelling at him would do nothing. With a sigh, Hank pressed his grizzled fingers on the keys of the piano, letting them rest as he stared. He smiled grimly when he remembered old Luther, staring blankly at the keys. Maybe there was something about it, after all.

Maybe he should try and make nice with the kid. It wasn't like he'd done anything personal to Hank. Sure, he'd tried to kill a guy he was fond of (he'd admit that much, no more), but if the guy himself could forgive the kid, maybe he should, too? He couldn't be more than 30, as youthful as his face was. Maybe younger. And there was an… innocence, about him. A naivety that underscored his actions. Perhaps Hank realized that, given the chance, he could really come to care about the kid. Maybe that's why he hated him. Maybe, just maybe, the naive innocence reminded him just a little bit of Co-

He slammed his hands down on the keys, relishing the dissonant clang that the keys made.

But that wasn't Connor's fault. Maybe Hank couldn't be friendly, but he could at least not be hostile. It was hard enough, being admitted into a mental hospital against your will. While Jericho was pretty good, all things considered, it was still a bit of a prison. While they had more freedom than a traditional jail, they still weren't allowed to leave. At least, Connor wouldn't be able to, since he was court-ordered to be here, like Hank. With another sigh, he rubbed his hand against his beard. It was getting a bit long, so he'd have to ask the nurses to trim it. He wasn't allowed near razors, given what had happened the last time. He hadn't meant to do it, it had just… happened.

He'd be nicer to Connor, he decided. Not friendly, since Hank was never friendly. But maybe indifferent. He wouldn't make the kid's life harder than it was. If he really was a head-case and had the opportunity to get better, who was Hank to stop him?

With that decided, Hank stood and left the music room. Without anywhere else to go, Hank headed back to the library to read for the next half hour before dinner was served. Once in the library, he picked up one of the trashy romance novels he would deny enjoying with his dying breath and read until he heard the tone that indicated that dinner was being served. He got up with a groan, his aging back aching, and sauntered to the dining room.

Dinner was a simple affair that day, some spaghetti and meatballs with a side of garlic bread, nothing that needed a knife to cut. He'd kill for a good, greasy cheeseburger, but they tried to go healthy here. The closest he'd gotten Markus to agree to was a turkey burger with lettuce, tomatoes, and onion. No cheese. Sometimes Chris would smuggle him a cheeseburger, and he swore he'd kiss the man if the man wasn't happily married. As it was, the spaghetti was pretty good. The food had improved drastically after Markus had arrived, the man mentioning to Hank once that he'd always hated the food they served at the place when he'd been a patient there. Hank could sympathize, as that had been one of his biggest problems with the place at first. The food had been like plastic, flavorless and rubbery. Now they used good ingredients (some fresh from the vegetable garden beside the rose garden) and made the food at the site, with help from patients who were allowed in the kitchen. Hank wasn't, even if he had wanted to help, due to all the sharp objects. Which, fair.

He ate the food slowly, listening in to his fellows' gossip. Apparently, they were all excited about Connor, their gossip mounting now that the man was there. This always happened with new patients, Hank knew it would die down in a few days. Well, if they didn't catch wind of why Connor was in here.

As he listened, he found that people had figured out that Connor had been transferred from the DPD's holding cells, and that he was roomed with Hank. He got a few odd looks from some patients, whispering behind their hands. He scowled back, doing his best to look unapproachable. It worked, since no one came up to ask him any questions about the kid. One plus about being the town grouch was that no one really bugged him.

After half an hour he finished his food, but instead of leaving, he just sat and waited. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and the dining hall was the nicest room in the place, with its warm walls, decent lighting, and nice wooden tables. It was better than anywhere else. And he couldn't go back to his room just yet, so there was no problem just sitting around. He did get up so that he could throw out his trash and get a newspaper, though.

The next hour and a half passed that way, Hank slowly perusing the paper and listening into the gossip. As the time passed, the dining room slowly emptied, until it was just him and the few stragglers who had come to dinner late.

It was at 7:30 that Hank began frowning, eyeing the room. He'd been there since the beginning of dinner and hadn't left except to piss about half an hour earlier. But he would have noticed if his new roommate had decided to show up, if only because of the fuss it would have made. As the remaining half hour passed on, there was no sign of Connor. Hank's frown grew deeper and deeper, until it was all over his face. Finally, 8:00 came along, with the volunteers packing up the food and putting stuff away. He was still allowed to stay in the room until curfew at 10:00, but he could see the staff cleaning the tables and wiping down the chairs.

With a groan, his eyes rolling in his skull, head shaking at his own stupidity, Hank made a decision and stood up, headed for the closing kitchen.

"Hold up, hold up!" Hank grumbled, catching Markus's eye. With a pleasant smile, Markus moved towards the window between the kitchen and dining room that the food was served out of.

"Hello Hank. Was there anything you needed?"

Scowling, Hank nodded slowly, fighting with his own decision. It was stupid, beyond stupid, but it might make up for his horrible behavior earlier. Maybe.

"Yeah," Hank started slowly, taking a slow breath before continuing, "I do. I'd like an extra plate of spaghetti, if you don't mind."

Technically speaking patients were allowed to get seconds if they wanted, but Hank rarely asked, at least not on days they had the blander options. That was probably why Markus's eyebrows shot up, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"You want an extra serving? I guess you're feeling hungry today," Markus remarked cheerfully, surprise still in his eyes, but not bringing it up. Hank considered leaving it at that, letting Markus assume what he wanted, but instead he rolled his eyes and decided on telling the truth.

"It uh, it ain't for me."

At that, a look of complete shock came over Markus's face. Hank wasn't sure he'd ever seen the man so surprised. He'd almost find it funny, if there wasn't heat creeping up on his cheeks and neck. He scowled when Markus grinned widely at him, obviously knowing who Hank was bringing the food to. So sue him. The food here, while good warm, tasted like shit when cold. He was just being nice. He could be nice, right? Extend an olive branch? Besides, he had a creeping suspicion it was his fault the kid hadn't left his room and he felt guilt climb in his stomach at the thought. He may be an asshole, but he wasn't into scaring people so bad they refused dinner.

With another grin, Markus turned to the kitchen and started to set up another plate of food, putting a plastic cover over it so that it would stay warm. Still grinning, almost smugly (the bastard), Markus returned and handed Hank the plate.

"Here you go, Hank!" Markus exclaimed cheerfully, eyes twinkling. Hank scowled deeper, yanking the plate from the infuriating man. Why did he tolerate this piece of shit, again? He turned to leave, when Markus called out to him. "Make sure you give Connor my best."

Even though he was turned, he could hear the smug tone in the man's voice. Hank tensed and was almost ready to throw the plate in trash and be done with it. But, remembering his actions toward the kid, Hank knew he had to offer something. Plus, he did feel sympathy towards Connor. He knew how tough the first day could be. So, with that in mind, Hank just lifted his middle finger and barked back, "fuck you, you cocksucker," before heading out the door. Markus's laughter following him out.

In the hallway, Hank allowed some of the tension to leave his shoulders. He wasn't used to doing nice things for people, so he was feeling very tense about this. What if Connor didn't appreciate the gesture? What if he was offended? What if it just made things worse?

Well, nothing ever got done by thinking of 'what if's' (and God did he know that truth), so he forced his old body to start moving, ignoring the creaking of his bones. Maybe North's dance class would be good for him. It would be good to have exercise, he supposed, other than walking around the facility, bored out of his mind.

All too quickly, Hank reached his (and now Connor's) room, the door slightly foreboding to him. He hesitated outside it. Funny. A cop for over 30 years and this was what scared him. A 30-something twink who had the most emotionless expression he'd ever seen. Like a doll playing at being human. Scowling yet again (one day his face would stick like that, his mother had used to say before she'd died of alcohol poisoning), he opened the door roughly, carefully holding the plate in one hand. He blinked in surprise when he noticed the room was pitch black, except for the light from the streetlights outside the window. Frowning, he turned to Connor's bed, and froze when he saw the sight before him.

While awake, the kid had a controlled expression on his face, as emotionless and blank as he could make it. Brown eyes showing nothing of what went through his mind. But in sleep, his entire face relaxed. He looked… younger, Hank decided, staring at the youthful expression. The face was softer, the roundness pronounced in sleep. He couldn't see his eyes, but the whole face was slack, not all bunched up like in his waking hours. His mouth was slightly open, soft breathing coming from his pink (and yes, / _pillowy_ /) lips. From where he was, Hank could barely make out a few freckles, which made him swallow dryly. God, he looked cute.

Tensing again, Hank growled to himself, shaking his head viciously to get that thought out, his scar twinging. He didn't think people were cute. Puppies were cute. Little kids were cute. Hell, even cats were cute. People, much less his roommate, were not cute.

That thought firmly in place, Hank roughly placed the plate of food down on the bedside table beside Connor's bed, before heading out the room. He didn't know what he'd do, maybe try and watch TV on the ancient set that sometimes worked. He thought that a basketball game might be on, which he'd like well enough. He wasn't able to keep up with the sport as much as he would like while in here, but he still enjoyed watching every so often.

That decided, Hank left the room without a backwards glance, eyes decidedly not straying to the figure on the bed. He didn't care if Connor's food got cold. It was the thought that counted, right? Even if Connor didn't realize he was the one who brought it. Fuck. Whatever. He didn't care. He tried and look where it got him. Scowl firmly in place, Hank stormed into the common room, bypassing the startled looking patients. He glared at the people watching TV until they left with mildly terrified expressions. He felt a twinge of regret at that, but ultimately didn't care.

He switched the channel to ESPN and was relieved that the crappy TV decided to work that day. God, he hoped Markus would replace this TV soon. While the man wasn't in charge of the living areas or what was put in them, he would still sometimes gift the facility with new items when the old ones broke. Hank didn't know how much money the man had, but he was fairly sure he was loaded, given who his adoptive father had been. After Carl Manfred's death, the man had left both his sons half his fortune each. Markus's brother had been furious at that, contesting in court, but it was ultimately decided that Markus was entitled to half the fortune, though his brother got the house. Markus got the remaining paintings, though, so it was anyone's guess who got the better deal.

Settling in to watch the game, Hank tried his best to not think of his new roommate and was successful for about an hour. Then the game kind of stalled, no one scoring, and so Hank's mind wandered, try as he might to stop it.

The innocence of the kid sure had been exaggerated in sleep. He looked so young, there. And, try as he might, Hank couldn't help but compare him to...

He hated it. It had been a while since he'd thought of Co- of his so- of… of Cole. Of his boy. It still hurt, even three years later. The past month had been particularly bad, with another suicide attempt corresponding with the three-year anniversary. He hadn't really expected it to work, but it had gone farther than any of his other attempts while in the facility and it had concerned the doctors, who had forced him to start taking his meds. He had stopped, now, but it had helped for a bit, he guessed. He just hated medication, how it made him feel. He knew it would help, but… maybe he didn't want to get better. Maybe he just wanted to get worse and worse; to hit rock bottom.

God, he missed whiskey. What he wouldn't do for even a sip of the stuff. Maybe he'd wheedle some out of Chris the next time he saw him. Or maybe Ben. Ben was more disapproving of the vice, knowing Hank's history with the stuff, but he would be sympathetic if Hank begged. He'd be seeing Ben in a couple days anyway, when he brought Sumo to visit on Sunday. That got a small smile on his face, as he thought of his dog.

He missed Sumo. He missed his little house, that he'd gotten after Cole died. He missed his job, and his friends. Hell, he even missed the grocery store he used to shop at. He missed being part of the outside world, of being able to wander freely. Perhaps it was his fault, for not taking his meds, or not talking to the stupid psychiatrists or doctors. He probably could have checked himself out by now, had he not tried to kill himself last month. But it… it had hurt, so bad. Three years without Cole. His boy would have turned 9 that year. Hank had shot himself at Cole's previous birthday, when he'd thought of how happy Cole would have been to turn 8. When he remembered the happy expression that Cole always had on, even when he and his wife would fight. How Cole would hug him so tightly when he'd break down over something he'd seen on the job. How kind Cole was, to everyone. How everyone adored him. How friendly and happy his little boy was.

Hank hadn't even realized he was crying until he felt water hit his hands, blinking at the blurry room. He let out a soft gasp, and hastily scrubbed his eyes, before anyone saw. He didn't care who saw him cry, but he didn't want anyone to try and talk to him about it. Least of all Markus, if the man decided to wander in. Markus, for all his kindness, could be overwhelming with his sympathy. And Hank didn't want sympathy. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Or maybe drink until he couldn't see straight, until the demons in his head shut up. Until he couldn't remember Cole. That just made more tears fall from his eyes, softly. He gasped, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

He didn't want to forget Cole. He never wanted to forget Cole. Cole was everything, and he'd deal with this pain as long as he could to give life to his son. If he forgot his son, then Cole was truly gone. And he couldn't bear that thought. He couldn't.

After a minute, he realized the tears wouldn't stop, so he stood hastily and made a beeline for his room. He knew that Connor was still there, but he hoped the kid was still sleeping. He rushed passed the lingering patients and volunteers, not stopping when a nurse called out to him.

Finally he made it to his room, where he paused outside the door to try and control his breathing. Leaning his head against the door, he breathed deeply, in and out, until he could breathe normally again. It took a few minutes, but that was okay. The tears wouldn't stop falling, though, so he just scrubbed the tears that were already on his cheeks away and carefully opened the door, so as to not wake Connor.

His endeavor was pointless, though, as the kid was sitting up in his bed stretching, hair mused slightly, eyes heavy with sleep. His eyes darted to Hank as soon as the door was opened and Hank watched as the kid's eyes widened as he noticed the tears that still fell from his cursed eyes. He tried to scowl but found he couldn't quite manage it.

"Lieutenant…?" Connor started hesitantly, only to shut up when Hank glanced fiercely at the kid, scowl firmly up, glare cutting. He didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted to shower and forget this had happened. God, he wished he had booze. He'd even take those fruity cocktails he'd always said he hated but secretly liked. He'd take even a wine cooler, for Christ's sake. He just wanted to be numb for a while. To forget for one night.

He realized that he was staring at Connor, who was staring back. Tears still fell, so Hank scrubbed them away again, before storming into the bathroom, locking the door viciously. Taking deep breaths, Hank undressed and went into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go in winter, and tried to erase his thoughts.

It took almost half an hour for the tears to stop, the water long since turned cold, before he felt sane enough to try and venture out into the room. He hadn't bothered to grab any clothes on his way in, as focused as he was on getting away, so he'd have to do the walk of shame. Wrapping his towel around his hips, Hank hoped that Connor had gone back to sleep, so the kid wouldn't be scarred at seeing his old man chest.

But his luck had officially run out, because Connor was still awake, picking at the dinner Hank had brought for him. As soon as Hank entered the room Connor's head popped up, wide eyes staring at Hank. Hank flushed when he noticed Connor's eyes darting down, over his chest, causing the older man to defensively cross his arms over his bare skin. He hadn't gotten much exercise since he'd left the force, and years of drinking daily and eating takeout food had given him a bit of a gut. Even staying in the facility, which had better food and no alcohol (regrettably), hadn't done much for the fat, not without proper exercise.

Once he got his bearings back, he stormed over to his dresser and picked out his night clothes, feeling Connor's eyes roving over his back. He tried not to tense, not liking the heavy stare. Picking clothes at random, Hank hurriedly went back to the bathroom to change, slamming the door loudly, feeling a touch of satisfaction at the sound.

Done dressing, Hank stormed back out into the room and laid down in his bed, staring at the ceiling, body tense. The lights from outside gave enough light to see around the room, and Hank hated the shadows that danced on the ceiling. He pushed out thoughts of Cole, who'd always been afraid of the dark, wanting to sleep with him and his wife more nights than not. He hadn't slept well in years, always expecting to find a warm body beside him in the bed. Pushing the thought away, Hank slammed his eyes closed, willing sleep to find him.

Long minutes later, just as Hank was about to drift off, the only sound in the room the silent breathing of both men, he heard a soft voice, so soft he almost thought he had imagined it.

"Thank you," the voice breathed, causing Hank's eyes to open abruptly, head tilting to look at the bed to the right of him. He could barely make out Connor's face amongst the pillows and blanket, but he could see those deep brown eyes staring at him, emotion shuttered inside them. Hank felt his throat dry. He wasn't sure what the kid was thanking him for. The dinner? The olive branch? Something else?

"Don't mention it," Hank grumbled lowly, head facing up again. He felt Connor's eyes linger on him until he finally drifted into sleep.

Well. This sure was going to be interesting.

* * *

Poor Hank. :-( Just saying, I have Hank cry a bit in this story, so if that's not your jam, I apologize. I just wanted to focus on the "getting better" aspect of depression, and you can't get better without feeling worse. Well, you can, but not with Hank. Plus, he's missing his favorite coping mechanism, here, so I feel like crying after your son dies is a bit of a natural response.

Also, I added a new tag, mostly due to things that happen in the chapter I just wrote, chapter 17. And with things that happen with Reed, who I don't really like. So, just a warning, I use some ableist language, which, for those of you who don't know what that means, means that I kind of have characters be rude to mentally ill people and use slurs. I bleep out the really bad ones, but I just wanted people to know beforehand. :-)


	4. Adventures in Modern Cleaning

Yo! Long chapter today, so have fun! Thanks for the comments and reviews, I really appreciate them!

Song title comes from the Buggles song, Adventures in Modern Recording. The song has no connection with the story, I just had the song in my head when I was thinking up chapter titles. :-)

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Connor had no idea what he had felt inside when he saw Hank come into the room, eyes damp from tears. It had not at all been what he expected to see when he had woken up, mildly disoriented from his change in scenery. He usually woke from sleep well rested, instantly awake thanks to another of Amanda's experiments. But this time he had still felt tired; groggy, he supposed. He had only been awake a minute before the door had opened, Hank's tear-filled face in the doorway.

They had stared at one another for a few seconds, before Connor had hesitantly said the man's title. He had no idea what he would have said after that, but Hank had just scowled and glared, before storming into the bathroom, leaving Connor to stare at the door in confusion.

He was still staring at it several minutes later but found that he could not figure out the man's motives. Shaking his head, he pushed the incident out of mind. Hank wouldn't appreciate talking about it and trying to do so would just make the man angrier. That would go against the plan of making nice with the man. It wasn't an official objective (yet), but it was still, potentially, a good idea.

Eyes moving away from the door, Connor looked to the bedside table to check the time, and saw a lidded plate atop it, presumably with food inside it. That just confused him even more. Who...? He had thought Markus had said that people could go to the dining room whenever? Why would someone put food in his room, then? Had Markus done it? It would have made sense, but for some reason Connor didn't think so. Volunteers weren't allowed in rooms unless invited by the patients. Only nurses, doctors, and orderlies could enter at will, but even then, they had to have good reason for doing so. Or so he had been told during his intake meetings. So who…

He heard the shower start, and felt his eyes dart to the door, understanding coming to mind, before confusion filled it yet again.

The only logical person to bring him food without needing permission to enter was Hank, who also lived in the room. But why…? He thought the man hated him? Why would he bring him dinner?

Well, whatever the reason, Connor felt his stomach growl, and was glad that he hadn't had to walk to the kitchen to get fed. Opening the plastic cover, he took the fork and began eating the cold spaghetti, which was less appetizing that he'd hope. Half an hour passed as Connor picked at the food, his bread more crumbs than anything else by the time Hank had exited the bathroom.

Eyes attracted to the movement, Connor looked up, but felt his eyes go wide at the sight before him. For some reason, he felt the breath rush out of his body, mouth suddenly dry as he saw the wet, glistening skin before him. He'd never seen a man without his shirt on before. Well, not so intimately. It was… something. While the body wasn't like the ones he saw on ads or on TV, when he'd been allowed to watch TV, it was still… Connor couldn't find the right words. Beautiful? Enchanting? Baffling?

He couldn't understand what he was feeling, his stomach in knots as he looked the older man up and down. He distantly noticed the man crossing his arms defensively over his chest, skin turning pink, with Connor's gaze lingering longer than was considered acceptable, but he didn't care. He couldn't look away.

He could tell the man was embarrassed, but he didn't understand why. Was it because he felt he looked poorly? Well, that was wrong, Connor thought as the man turned and he could see strong back muscles. The man may have a bit more fat than was considered socially acceptable, but he wore it well. And it was obvious he had musculature beneath the fat, his arms thick and strong. Connor bit his lip, trying not to squirm. Perhaps Connor was being quote unquote "creepy" by staring. Perhaps Hank just didn't like people staring at him. Regardless, Connor could do nothing but stare as Hank stormed back into the bathroom to dress. He felt a stab of disappointment. He pushed the feeling away.

It wasn't that Connor didn't know what attraction was. Nor had he not known he felt an attraction towards men, rather than women. It was just that it was often pointless. Why worry about it, when he had more important things to worry about? Attraction and relationships were just distractions. While Connor would try and make friends with his roommate, to make life easier over the next few months, he wouldn't do anything more than that. At least, that is what he told himself.

So, he pushed the feelings away, compartmentalizing them. His desire for friendship didn't seem as hopeless as it had at first, if the dinner was anything to go by. Lying down in bed, Connor resolved to thank the man for the food, trying to reinforce that such behavior was appreciated. His first night here hadn't been the best night ever, but he hoped that things would get better. Maybe if he made friends with Hank, things would improve. Connor quickly made that an official objective, now that it didn't seem so pointless, or likely to fail. _**Befriend Lieutenant Hank Anderson**_. With a smile, he waited for Hank to leave the bathroom, so he could thank him.

When the door opened again, Hank shuffling out and into bed, Connor turned his head to stare at the older man, the light from the street lamp outside illuminating his wet, grey hair, making it glisten beautifully. He told himself to stop staring, that Hank would find it creepy, but he couldn't. He couldn't look away from the man, though he tried. Finally, right before he felt Hank would fall asleep (and thus be most receptive to positive reinforcement), Connor quietly breathed his thanks, watching as Hank turned to face him, his murky blue eyes staring deep into his.

Finally, after a long moment, Hank grumbled, "don't mention it," before his eyes shifted back up the ceiling, closing as he tried to fall asleep. Connor tried not to feel keen disappointment at the loss of those baby blues. He kept staring until he saw the man's face relax with sleep, the hard lines and wrinkles erasing, giving him a younger look.

 _He looks good like that,_ Connor thought absently to himself, moving his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

He stayed like that for the next half hour, listening to Hank's soft snores as they filled the air.

It was around 11:00 that he finally drifted into sleep, dreams full of hairy, bare chests, and soulful blue eyes.

_—_

When Connor awoke the next morning, it was still dark out. He checked the time and saw that it was 5:00 am, an hour before curfew lifted and he could leave his room. Fully rested, he didn't need to sleep anymore, which gave him the quest of finding something to do with his time. He hated sitting quietly and doing nothing. He wasn't programmed for it.

Sitting up quietly so as to not disturbed the still snoring man to his left, he carefully looked around the room, frowning at the mess that was scattered about. He had had some time to look around the previous night while Hank was in the shower, but he still felt dissatisfied with the surroundings.

The room itself was a decent size, a bit small for two grown men, but was not terrible. The walls were stained grey with grime and the carpet was scratchy brown with holes and deep stains on it. Hank had a few posters up on his side of the room, of Jazz bands and basketball stars. He also had a couple photos, both framed and loose, of people dressed in uniform, who Connor assumed were old friends of Hank. The ceiling had a large watermark on it that concerned Connor, and the doors had scratches and dents on them. He didn't know how the bathroom looked, but he felt it would be similarly rundown. There was an old, cluttered desk under the mid-sized window, with an old landline phone atop it, and a couple shelves and drawers along the walls, one for each of them.

The worst part, though, was the clutter. Because there were no cleaning crews for the rooms here, the patients having to clean up themselves (unless they couldn't or requested help), the room had slowly accumulated junk and clutter. There were clothes scattered about, likely dirty, Connor thought with a wrinkle of his nose. There were old newspapers all around the floor, some stained books, a handful of old, halfhearted art projects here and there, and what could only be called trash littering the floors, amongst some personal items. Connor, who kept his room at home immaculate, instantly hated the area. Well, maybe not hated. It did have its charm, and certainly looked… lived in, unlike his room, but he definitely didn't like the clutter. So, with fifty-five minutes left before curfew lifted, Connor quietly got out of bed and set about decluttering the space. He didn't bother wondering if Hank would mind or not. Who would mind having their living space freshened up? He set a new objective. _**Clean the room.**_

It took him roughly half an hour to get all the junk off the ground. He had put the books, art projects, and newspapers in piles, just in case Hank wanted to keep them. But the candy wrappers, empty chip containers (where had the man even gotten chips? A friend?), old plastic wrap, and other various trash items went into the can by the door, while the old laundry went into the hamper he saw beside the man's bed. That done, Connor entered the bathroom to see about getting cleaning supplies to start scrubbing the walls and carpet a little.

The bathroom was, in fact, pretty bad. Not quite as bad as the room, since it seemed Hank cleaned the trash at least, but he could see grime on the walls and spittle on the mirror. There were also numerous yellow sticky notes on the mirror with writing on them that he couldn't read from his angle. He set a sub-objective to the main objective of cleaning the room **. _Clean the bathroom_.**

He couldn't find many cleaning supplies in the bathroom, which he supposed made sense. Instead, he took a bucket he found and filled it with soapy water, then took a small sponge he had found in the cabinet under the sink and moved to the main room. It would likely take him a while to fully clean the walls, but he had nothing but time, waiting for his time to be up here. Maybe he'd ask if he could get some proper cleaning supplies today. It would be worth it he felt.

For the next several hours Connor scrubbed the walls as best he could, taking the posters and the pictures and putting them by the desk. His goal was to get as much of the grime and dirt off the grey walls as he could. He couldn't make the walls perfectly white like before, but he was pleased when he saw that they were now a bit whiter, with no dark spots of mold or grime. There were still some stains, as was expected until he could possibly get some bleach, but it was a start. He felt accomplished at what he had done, and then set into the bathroom to start cleaning the grime in there. He noted that the time was 8:13, meaning he had a little under two hours until breakfast was no longer served warm. That was plenty of time to start cleaning the walls of the bathroom. The shower itself was a whole other story, but as he had said, he had plenty of time.

It was about an hour into his cleaning of the bathroom that he heard the first signs of stirring of his new roommate. Connor paused while scrubbing the walls, listening in for the telltale sounds of a person waking up. He could picture Hank stretching as he sat up, hair loose and tangled, a groan escaping from his lips. Connor swallowed heavily at the sound.

Then, there was a brief silence. Connor wondered what Hank thought of the room. He was proud of how much he had done in the short few hours. He waited, breath bated, as Hank took a deep breath.

"What in the ever-loving fuck...?"

Hank muttered tiredly, probably rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Connor's heart started to pound. The man didn't sound particularly happy...

"What? Fucking, shit. Who the fuck…?" Hank was starting to sound more and more pissed off. Uh oh. Connor frowned slightly, before standing up, figuring it was time to make his presence known. He was still wearing the clothes he had arrived in, a wrinkled, white collared shirt with dress pants. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, so they wouldn't get dirty while he cleaned. He fiddled with the sleeves, distantly wishing he had his quarter to fiddle with.

Moving towards the door, Connor exited the bathroom and stood beside Hank's bed, which was closest to the bathroom on the right side of the room, and watched the man's confused, mildly furious expression as he glanced around the room. He had been correct about the man's hair being a mess, the shoulder length grey hair a mess of tangles. Connor thought it suited the man.

It took only a second before Hank noticed Connor's presence in the room, but as soon as he did, his expression darkened as he jumped out of bed, stalking toward Connor. Connor fought the desire to back up, and just let Hank push him against the wall, snarl on his lips. Connor kept his face purposely blank, not showing the jolt of fear he felt at being slammed against the wall. (Or the hint of arousal, but that went without saying. He pushed the feeling aside, as pointless as it was).

"What the _fuck_ did you do to my room, you asshole?!" Hank seethed, face right next to Connor's. As the older man had a couple inches on him, Connor had to look slightly up to gaze into those bright blue eyes, filled with fury. Connor put a sardonic expression on his face, a tight, emotionless smile on his lips.

" _Our_ room, Lieutenant. And I cleaned it. It was full of trash and clutter, so I decided to tidy up. I hadn't thought it would be a problem."

He truly hadn't. Perhaps he had misjudged Hank. Perhaps the man liked the familiar and hated change. He made a note of that in his memory.

He watched, suddenly detached from the moment, as Hank bared his teeth, apparently not pleased with the answer. Connor didn't show the stab of displeasure that expression created inside him. To think, he had thought they were getting closer. He could practically see a red arrow in the corner of his vision, marking their relationship status from tense to hostile. He tried not to frown. Showing emotion would just get him into more trouble. That's what happened when Amanda grew angry at him. It was best to just ignore it and hope Hank got over his fit of rage.

"Yeah? And you didn't think to fucking ask me, you prick?! It's my fucking room! Yeah, you're staying here, but I had things how I liked 'em! And where the fuck are my posters? Don't tell me you fucking threw them out or I swear to God…" Hank trailed off murderously, eyes spitting fire. Connor blinked, before looking at the walls. Oh. He had forgotten to put back up the posters and pictures on the walls after cleaning. Perhaps that was what angered Hank…?

"I apologize for not asking first, Lieutenant. You had been asleep, and I had needed something to do. As for your posters and your pictures, I put them on the chair over there, to keep them safe while I scrubbed the walls. I must have forgotten to put them back up. I assure you I wouldn't have thrown them out. All I threw out was the trash. Everything else went into piles, for you to determine what to do with later."

His voice was utterly detached, eyes glazed as he stared into the middle ground, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. He distantly felt Hank let go of him and wander to the areas he had indicated, a soft grunt being released when Hank saw he had told the truth. Connor didn't move as Hank picked up one of the photos, a soft hum being released. However, he couldn't help how he tensed when Hank turned back to him, eyes shrewd.

For some reason Connor noticed he was shaking. Why was he shaking? He had no reason to be shaking. He forced himself to stop, and moved his eyes back to Hank, who was frozen as he watched Connor. Connor tilted his head to the side, hands behind his back, picture of detachment, like Amanda had trained him to be. Perfect, emotionless. He couldn't let any emotion through. That would just make things worse. He felt himself start to shake again as he remembered what would happen if he showed any emotion. He stopped shaking.

"Kid… shit, I didn't mean to scare you. I just… fuck," Hank muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Connor watched emotionlessly as Hank struggled for words. Finally, Connor took pity on the man and spoke up.

"It is alright, Lieutenant. I understand that it can be… distressing, having your personal space messed with. I should have asked first. I apologize."

"What? No, kid, come on. You have nothing to apologize for. I do. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I was just… I don't know. Fucking stupid. Sorry." Hank sounded awkward while apologizing, ears flushing as a scowl rose unbidden on his face. It was… charming. Connor attempted to smile, eyes still emotionless.

"I forgive you, Lieutenant. Do not worry."

Hank gave him an odd look at that, shaking his head.

"Alright. Alright. Anyway, I have a question for you. Why the fuck do you keep calling me Lieutenant? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly a cop anymore. Rank don't mean shit now."

Connor tilted his head to the side, contemplating that. Why, indeed, did he call the man Lieutenant? He pondered for a second, before landing on an explanation.

"Amanda always told me that soldiers must show deference and respect to their superiors by calling them by their titles," Connor stated, with a small nod. Yes, that made sense. He had been programmed to be respectful to his superiors. That made sense.

"Who the fuck is Amanda? And Connor, you're not a fucking soldier. Neither am I. I'm an ex-cop and you're… well, actually, I don't know what the Hell you did, before. Were you a soldier? You don't look like one…" Hank questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Connor.

Connor frowned slightly, thinking through the question. How could he explain what he did before, without betraying Amanda and the Company?

"Amanda is my adoptive mother, and no, I don't suppose I was a soldier. Though I did fight. I… don't know how to explain my job," Connor confessed honestly, frown deepening. He put his arms down to his side, relaxing now that Hank wasn't yelling at him. Hank frowned back.

"Well, that's not ominous as fuck. All I know about your life outside was that you tried to kill Markus. So, what? You a spy or some shit?"

A spy. Perhaps that was a good description of what he did? Connor nodded slowly, trying to ignore what Hank said about Markus. He didn't want to think about that.

"A spy… yes, I suppose? That is close to what I did."

Hank continued to look at Connor oddly, before a rumbling stomach echoed through the room, startling both men. Hank chuckled a second later, shaking his head.

"You know what? Whatever. You can call me Hank, if you want. Or Lieutenant. I don't really care. Just don't call me Mr. Anderson, as that makes me feel like a fucking high school teacher. Now, come on. Let's head to breakfast, before they shut down for the day." Hank shook his head again, before heading out the room, still in his pajamas, consisting of an old, stained, grey t-shirt (that might have once been white) and black boxer shorts.

Connor briefly entertained the thought of showering before heading out to breakfast, but ultimately decided to follow Hank. After all, Hank was the only person Connor knew here outside of Markus and he wasn't sure if Markus was here that day. Plus, he did still have tentative plans to kill the other man, which would probably make things awkward between them. So, mind made up, Connor hurried out of the room, quickly catching up to Hank as he strode towards the dining hall. Hank didn't acknowledge him except for a brief look when Connor started to walk beside him.

The two went down the halls in amicable silence. Much different to the hostile beginning of the day. He supposed he could upgrade their relationship from 'hostile' back to 'tense.' Maybe even to 'neutral,' if he was being generous.

The second the two entered the dining hall, every eye in the room landed on them, whispers instantly breaking out among the patients. Connor frowned, while Hank just glared at everyone, sneering at anyone who dared to look. After a couple moments people turned back to their food, though the whispers kept up. Connor stopped frowning, but he still felt unease as he followed Hank to get breakfast. It was pancakes with scrambled eggs, which Connor liked well enough. He followed Hank to a table in the corner, sitting down in front of Hank. Hank, however, just scowled at him across the table.

"Hey, did I fucking say you could sit with me?" Hank scowled, stabbing his pancake with his fork. He didn't bother to put anything on it, like butter or syrup, just took a bite from the side of the whole pancake. He hadn't even cut it into smaller pieces with his fork, like Connor was doing. Connor frowned at the man, fork lifted halfway to his mouth.

"I… I'm sorry. I assumed…" Connor fought against the flush that was rising in his face, staring at Hank with wide eyes. "I can leave if you'd like, I'm sorry." Perhaps he had misjudged their relationship? Maybe they were still 'hostile…'

Hank just grunted, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, kid. Just don't make a habit of it." Hank went back to his pancake, shoulders hunched as he tried to ignore the returning stares. Connor fought another frown, then did the same as Hank, slowly bringing the bite of pancake to his mouth, a small smattering of syrup on it. It tasted alright. Not the best in the world, but not horrible. He took another bite.

The breakfast dragged on. He was acutely aware of the stares on him, and while he didn't usually mind people staring, it felt awkward to him, more so since he and Hank were not speaking. He did his best to push the thoughts away, but they would creep back whenever someone looked at him and started to whisper. It was like he'd heard high school to be like. Not that he knew, since Amanda had home schooled him with his pseudo-siblings.

Finally breakfast ended, and Hank was out the door as soon as he'd eaten his last bite of egg. Connor tried not to feel relief, but he did. Sitting with the man after that morning had been… awkward.

Connor picked his food up carefully, throwing the trash away. He had been about to exit the room when a young, African American man wearing blue scrubs came over, a fake smile on his face. Connor didn't know how he knew the smile was fake, as he never understood human emotion, but even he could see the tense lines around the young man's eyes.

"Are you Connor Stern?" Upon Connor nodding sharply, the man nodded back, continuing what he wanted to say. "My name is Adam Chapman and I'm here to bring you to your first meeting with Dr. Rose. You met with one of the other doctors for your intake last week, but I assure you that Dr. Rose knows what you went over and is more than capable to help you. Would you mind following me?"

The man then started to walk out of the room, not waiting for a response. Connor felt a hint of annoyance fill him, which he pushed down. He had wanted to shower and get into fresh clothes, but he supposed he had no real choice. While the hospital gave the illusion of freedom, he knew that he was not allowed to refuse treatment. Or, at least, refuse to see the doctor.

They went into the common room, then into the nurses' station. Adam brought Connor through the halls, which were much cleaner than the halls in the rest of the facility. This was the hospital aspect of the place, he assumed. Eventually the two men stopped before a plain, pine door, with the name "Dr. Rose Chapman" printed on a little plaque outside. (Same last name, he noted.) Connor watched as Adam knocked on the door, a few seconds passing before a kindly, older, African American woman opened the door, a smile on her face. Connor noted that she and Adam had a few similar facial features. That, mixed with the same last name, indicated they probably weren't married. Related, perhaps?

"Oh, you must be Connor! Come in, come in! It's so good to meet you, dear. Please, take a seat. I hope Adam didn't disturb you?"

She seemed pleasant, Connor mused as he walked inside the room and took a seat across from her, a desk between them. He looked at the desk with curious eyes, noting the pictures that littered the desk beside a more modern computer. There was a picture of Rose and a somewhat younger Adam, dressed in a graduation uniform. Mother and son, then? Or a close aunt? Noticing his curious look, Rose smiled.

"Don't worry about the desk, dear. After this meeting we'll be sitting over in those chairs over there-" a hand pointed to a couple cozy looking chairs a few feet away from the desk- "but for today I'd like to get to know you a little better. I looked at your intake with Dr. Allen, but there are a couple things I'd like to clarify, if that would be alright with you?"

Dr. Rose looked at him with a kind smile, making Connor feel at ease. More than Dr. Allen had, anyway. He nodded his head, looking her in the eye. Adam, or Nurse Chapman he supposed, left at that, leaving Connor and the doctor alone together.

"Of course, Doctor. I don't mind at all."

Her smile widened, nodding encouragingly.

"Wonderful. One thing that confused me when looking at your intake was that you mentioned being 'programmed' to do or feel things. Would you like to expand on that?" Dr. Rose questioned gently, making him feel like he didn't have to answer if he hadn't wanted to. He froze, though, cursing his past self.

He hadn't meant to bring up his programming with the serious Doctor Allen. It had just come out, when the man asked why he had tried to kill Markus. He had felt flustered, such a useless emotion. The doctor had tried to follow that thread of conversation, but something about the man had made Connor ill at ease, and he hadn't wanted to bring it up. But… Dr. Rose seemed nice enough. As long as he was careful, maybe he could tell her…?

It seemed he hesitated too long (what seemed to be becoming common with him, he thought viciously), because Dr. Rose began speaking again.

"Please know that anything you tell me in here will not be repeated to anyone, even to the nurses or other doctors, if you don't wish me to. I will not tell the cops, unless you tell me something that might harm another person, or yourself. Talking about passed crimes will not be repeated, though. You have my word."

Connor bit his lip at that. So, he couldn't talk about the Company. Or some of his older crimes, since they could still be hurting others, theoretically. But… he could talk about his programming. He didn't see any reason not to. As long as he was careful about what he said. The doctor couldn't tell the police, right?

"Well…" Connor began, hesitating. He wasn't sure where to start. "I suppose. Growing up, I was programmed- that is to say raised- to act and feel a certain way. I call it programming, because it was, in a way."

Dr. Rose frowned at that, typing a note on her computer, before looking back at Connor.

"Interesting, Connor. Would you like to talk about that in more depth?"

Connor thought about it, before nodding slowly. He wasn't sure what else he could say, though.

"Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Well, I was wondering what this programming entails? How were you 'programmed,' if you will?"

Connor hummed, looking sightlessly at the wall. How could he explain?

"I am not allowed to feel anything. It… takes away from logic, Amanda always said. Any emotion was programmed out, while logic was programmed in. Sometimes I will glitch and feel things, but I quickly rectify it."

Dr. Rose frowned deeply at that, typing some more, taking half a minute to write it out. Connor fought the anxiety that rose in him. Had he said something wrong? Had he said too much? Before he could analyze it too much more, Dr. Rose looked back up and smiled kindly at him, though her eyes were still troubled.

"Thank you for telling me, honey. Now, what do you do when you feel emotion? Do you push the feeling away?"

Connor nodded. "Yes, I push any useless emotion away, like frustration, anger, annoyance. Or happiness, love, attraction. It is pointless and takes away from the mission."

Connor can't help the flinch he let out at that, not having meant to mention his mission. _Stupid_ , he chided himself, clenching his hands together. He fixed his expression quickly, though, looking at Dr. Rose with expressionless eyes. He made sure his face didn't betray him anymore. Dr. Rose was frowning again, typing another note while still looking at him.

"The mission?" She prompted, but Connor said nothing in return. After a second, the doctor moved on, realizing Connor wouldn't speak anymore on the subject.

"Alright, Connor. When you feel emotion, can you tell me how it makes you feel? Or, I suppose, what makes the emotions so negative to you?"

Connor considered ignoring the question but decided to carefully answer. It would be best to keep her as unsuspicious as possible, so answering the harmless questions should keep her appeased. Voice and face guarded, Connor looked emotionlessly at the doctor and did his best to explain.

"They are useless. They don't matter. Amanda says they are a distraction, nothing more." His voice was flat and lifeless. Exactly as it should always be, he thought viciously to himself. He had to be more careful while he was here. He ignored the part of himself that wanted to tell Rose everything, to figure out why he was so conflicted inside. To explain how much it hurt sometimes, to push his emotions down. But doing so would betray everything he was raised to believe. Would betray Amanda. And he refused to do that.

"A distraction from the mission," Dr. Rose remarked, eyebrows raised in question. Connor stared at the wall, not saying a word.

After that, the session moved on slowly, the doctor asking questions about his emotions that he tried to answer, but sometimes refused to. She wanted to know what it was like to feel emotion, what he would do if he felt emotions too large to push down, how emotion felt to him. After forty-five minutes, Connor felt completely exhausted, and Dr. Rose took notice.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry for the bombardment of questions. I just want to make sure you get the best care you can, while here. I just have one more question for you, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to, alright?"

After Connor nodded, Dr. Rose continued, eyes serious, but still kind. "What did you feel when you decided to spare Markus?"

Connor instantly tensed, eyes shooting to the doctor's, so tense that it almost hurt. His hands dig into his leg, likely leaving bruises if he didn't stop. He tried not to bare his teeth but failed.

"Why do you want to know?" Connor almost barked, defensive. He tried to push the emotion down but couldn't. He didn't want to talk about Markus.

Dr. Rose frowned at that, making another note on her computer. Connor hated it. Hated that he didn't know what she was thinking. Was she going to make him stay longer? He didn't want that. He wanted to go home. He missed Amanda. He missed his immaculate room. He even missed his pseudo siblings. He wanted to go home.

"I'm here to help you, Connor. And I think that what happened with Markus bothers you deeply, my dear. But you don't have to answer if you don't want, okay honey?"

Connor nodded tightly. He said nothing else, which made the doctor nod back.

"Alright. You're free to go, Connor. Let me page Adam, okay? In the future, we'll be meeting Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11:00 am. Then on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you'll meet with your group at noon for group session. If there are any issues with those times, let me know, and we can move things around, alright?"

Connor nodded again, feeling some of the tension leaving now that he didn't have to talk about Markus. After a moment Nurse Chapman returned, his too wide, too fake smile back. Connor stood and followed after the man but stopped at the door when Dr. Rose called out to him.

"Oh, before I forget! If you have any need to talk to me on days that we don't have session, or any time after hours, feel free to call me immediately, okay honey? You should have a phone in your room and my number is programmed in it. Just press number 5." With that, Dr. Rose waved goodbye, kind smile in place on her lips. Connor nodded his understanding, then followed Nurse Chapman out and through the hospital.

Once in the common room, Nurse Chapman left him alone, going back into the nurse station without a single word of farewell. Connor didn't mind. He just turned back to the room, body tense yet again when he realized he had no idea what to do then, and that everyone was staring at him. He was about to head back to his room to shower and maybe finish cleaning when a shadow came over him, making him look up (when had he looked down to the ground? He didn't know), into the frowning face of Hank. Connor tried not to let the relief that flooded him show. The man had obviously changed, wearing a slightly cleaner t-shirt and some long, well-worn jeans. He looked good, Connor noted absently.

"Hey kid. How did your first session go?"

Hank sounded gruff, like he hadn't really wanted to ask, but felt like it was his duty. Connor shrugged carefully, his eyes distant as he thought on the question. How had it gone?

"It went… alright," he decided, looking back into Hank's blue eyes. Hank nodded slowly, before gesturing to the hall that led them to their room.

"I suppose that's good. You should probably head back to the room and take a shower. No offense, but you look kind of like Hell warmed over. Can't promise the water will be warm, but it usually helps with stress," Hank muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, clearly uncomfortable. Connor attempted a smile, a small feeling of pleasure rising in his chest at Hank's concern.

"Yes, that would be enjoyable. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Hank just grumbled something about it being no big deal, before stalking off, out the door that led to the dining hall.

Soft smile unbidden on his face, Connor left through the door that would lead him to the staircase, leading up to his room, feeling relief at the thought of getting all the grime off his body. He never sweated much, but he had been in the same clothes for the past day and a half. He felt glad that they were allowed to wear what they wanted, here. He'd feel much better in his usual immaculate dress shirt, tie, and pants. He wouldn't be allowed to wear his suit jacket, but that was alright. The shirt and pants would be enough to make him feel like himself again.

Once in the room, Connor was surprised to find that the piles he had made had been picked up. The piles of things were no longer on the ground but put away neatly on the shelves on Hank's side of the room. He could see a few of the art projects that Hank had obviously made in the trash, but Connor impulsively fished them out, feeling a sentimental feeling towards them that he tried not to examine. He took them over to the shelves on his side of the room and placed them there.

They weren't well made, he knew that. There was a messily crafted origami crane, a popsicle stick person with a crudely drawn paper face, and a paper snowflake that was crumpled, but something in Connor liked them. They had obviously been made by Hank, and for some reason Connor enjoyed that thought. Hank's hands had created these things. That made them precious. Connor didn't let himself wonder why that was.

The posters and photos were back up, which made Connor smile. The room felt more like home, now. It wasn't as clean as he kept his room at home, but it was… lived in. Homely. A place he could see himself living in, unlike his room, where he simply existed. He didn't let himself think about why this pleased him, not wanting to push the emotion away.

That thought made him freeze, though. Emotions were pointless. Hadn't he just told Dr. Rose that? Yes. So, despite the slight pain he felt inside, he pushed the emotion aside and ignored how it disappointed him. He left the art pieces up, but he didn't think on them anymore. He entered the bathroom and took a shower, not thinking on how filthy the shower was. The walls were covered with soap scum and black substances he didn't want to know about. He resolved himself to clean out the rest of the bathroom and the shower once he finished his shower.

It took him ten minutes to finish washing, longer than usual only because it had taken him a minute to decide if he should use Hank's supplies or not, since he had forgotten his own in his bag that an orderly had brought him the previous day. He ultimately decided to use the shampoo and body wash that Hank used, ignoring the spark of pleasure he felt at the scent that reminded him of Hank. He left the bathroom quickly after that, towel low on his hips as he entered the main room.

He dressed quickly, feeling much better in his new outfit, and poked his head out, trying to see if an orderly was outside. Upon seeing no one, he walked to the end of the hall, where a young woman was standing, organizing supplies. With a pleasant smile forced on his face, he asked her if he could get some cleaning supplies for his room. The lady, in her mid-forties he presumed, informed him that they were only allowed mild, diluted cleansers, and he nodded quickly in understanding. She gave him an unmarked spray bottle, a couple sponges, and some gloves, which he took to his and Hank's room.

It took most of the day to finish cleaning the rooms. The cleanser didn't do all that much more than the soap in the main room, though he was able to clean some of the deeper stains into something not quite as dark. He was able to do much more work in the bathroom, though, attacking the black and brown spots with vicious, methodical focus. At one point, over the hours, Hank had come in and watched him work. The man had offered half-heartedly to help, looking like he would rather to do anything else, but Connor kindly declined. He enjoyed the work, he told the man. Hank had snorted at that and shook his head, but let it be. They chatted for a little, Hank telling Connor pointless facts about the facility he had learned over the past year. Connor enjoyed it.

When the man had left, Connor went back to work, ignoring the disappointment yet again. It was around six in the evening that Connor heard a knock on the door, informing him that dinner was being served. It was then that he figured he had done enough for the day and took the gloves off, washing his hand just in case anything had gotten beneath the things.

He walked slowly to the dining room, part of him not wanting a repeat of that morning. But his stomach was grumbling, since he had missed lunch in favor of cleaning the room more. So, squaring his shoulders, Connor entered the room, ignoring the looks sent his way. He stood on line for his food, which looked to be chicken and vegetable tacos with rice and beans. While Connor didn't love Mexican food, it would be acceptable.

His food in hand, Connor felt himself pause when facing the room, realizing he had no idea where to sit. He only knew one person here, but Hank had told him not to make a habit of sitting with him at meals. He looked through the room and noticed all the tables had at least one person sitting at them.

He felt panic rise in him as he wondered what he would do. He saw Hank and tried to catch the man's eye, but the man refused to look back, eyes resolutely on his plate. Connor was about to try and take his plate back to his room, not knowing what else to do (and not wanting to make friends with other patients. Hank was one thing, but other patients would just be pointless), when he heard a loud sigh from where Hank was seated. Connor turned in that direction, hope in his expression, watching as Hank turned annoyed eyes on him, before gesturing for him to come over. Connor didn't need to be asked twice, turning hurriedly toward the older man, the relief inside him overwhelming. He smiled when he sat across from the man, for once not having to force it. Hank looked at him weirdly for it, but smiled back, shaking his head as he turned back to his food.

The two shared an amicable silence, both eating their decent food, before Connor broke it, suddenly filled with curiosity regarding the other man. He realized that he knew nothing about Hank, other than he was a former homicide detective, used to laugh a lot but now only frowned, and enjoyed spending time with his old friends, which wasn't a lot to go on. Connor wished to rectify that.

"Lieutenant," Connor started, forgetting that Hank had requested he call him by his first name, "would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

He watched as Hank froze, turning his eyes hesitantly to Connor.

"Depends. What do you wanna know?"

Connor thought on that, before settling. "I was wondering what you did to be sent here. Unless I'm mistaken, I don't think you admitted yourself. Am I right?"

He hadn't thought it sounded like that bad a question, but he watched as Hank froze, his shoulders tensing. The man put his taco down, eyes guarded as he looked at Connor.

"Fuck, Connor, you can't just ask someone that shit. What the fuck?" Hank stated, snorting. He carefully picked his taco back up, eyes still guarded as he watched Connor. Connor tilted his head, confused.

"Why not? You know why I'm in here," Connor pointed out. He truly didn't understand people, sometimes. They made such little sense. Hank just scowled, before nodding grudgingly in acknowledgment.

"You got a point there. Fine. No, I didn't admit myself. My boss, Fowler, court ordered me to go after I tried to blow my fucking brains out. Happy?"

Hank sounded angry, but Connor didn't think it was directed at him. Maybe at this Fowler? Or at himself, for trying to kill himself? Connor nodded slowly, making a note to think about the information later.

"Yes. Thank you, Lieutenant. That must not have been easy to share. I appreciate it," Connor said, knowing that it was the typical response people had after someone shared something personal. He didn't know why, but it seemed to placate Hank, who nodded carefully, the guarded look fading from his eyes as he ate his taco. Silence filled the air, before Connor decided to try and ask another question.

"May I ask another personal question, Lieutenant?"

Hank sighed loudly, annoyance in his eyes as they darted back to Connor.

"Do you always ask so many personal questions, or is it just with me?"

"I apologize, Lieutenant. I just wanted to get to know you better. Are there any questions you had for me?"

"No. Wait," Hank said, holding up a hand, looking Connor in the eyes. "Has anyone ever told you how goofy your face and voice are?"

Connor blinked, head tilted as he considered the question.

"No, but I have been told by people that my face and voice puts them at ease."

"Yeah? Well, they lied."

Hm. Perhaps he had offended the man with all his questions? Trying not to let the frown show, Connor nodded quickly, eyes going back to his taco as he lifted it to take a bite. He heard Hank sigh again (did the man have breathing problems? He sighed a lot. Perhaps he should look into it, to know if his roommate was likely to die soon or not), and turned to look at Connor, annoyance once again in his eyes.

"Alright, fine. What was your question?"

Connor did frown at that, wondering what had made the man change his mind. Deciding it didn't matter, Connor put the rest of his taco down and turned to face the man once more.

"Well, I had simply wondered why you had decided to, quote, 'blow your fucking brains out?'"

If the first question had made Hank freeze up, this one made the man emblazed, eyes furious as he slammed his taco down, half standing, a vicious snarl on his lips. Connor felt a jolt a fear pass through him. He distantly noticed the rest of the room turning to watch them, a few volunteers hesitatingly standing, wondering if they'd need to intervene.

"What the fuck, Connor?! Where the fuck did you get the idea that that was a question you can just fucking ask a person?!" Hank seethed, eyes boring into Connor, who blinked rapidly at the ferocity in the tone.

"I-I'm sorry, Lieutenant! I, I hadn't meant to offend!" Connor assured, raising his hands placatingly. He really hadn't. Though, in retrospect, it hadn't been the most tactful question. Human nature was confusing.

Connor watched as Hank took a few deep breaths, the fire leaving his eyes as he took in Connor's fearful face. With a groan, Hank took a seat, waving it off with an absent hand. Connor could tell that the man was still pissed off, though, and felt a stab of displeasure at the thought. He hadn't wanted to anger the man. He had just wanted to know more about him. Oh dear.

"Yeah. Whatever. Just, don't fucking ask things like that, kid. Jesus fucking Christ," Hank mumbled, trying to salvage his ruined taco. A tense silence rose between the two, the rest of the room slowly turning back to their own conversations, though a few curious looks were shot their way. Connor just kept his hands in his lap, staring at the plate in front of him. For some reason, he had the desire to cry, which was nonsense. He hadn't cried since he was a young child, and whenever he would, Amanda would beat him until he hadn't been able to cry anymore. It was pointless. Yet, still, the sensation lingered. Connor didn't bother trying to eat the rest of his food, his stomach too twisted to eat anymore.

Long minutes passed before the silence between them was broken, once again by Hank, who had let out a groan, putting his fork down, now moved on to eating the beans.

"Jesus kid, you look like I fucking kicked your puppy. Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, but you can't fucking ask people shit like that. I know some people who'd deck you for even thinking it. But whatever, I don't fucking care. Just, eat your fucking dinner, alright?" The man said through clenched teeth, annoyance again in his eyes.

Connor turned his wide eyes onto the man, nodding quickly, hastily following the order despite how little he wanted to. His movement was jolting, his hands shaking despite his best efforts to get them to stop. After a few seconds of attempting to eat his taco, he heard Hank sigh yet again (seriously, should he be concerned?) and he felt a hand gently touch his. His eyes widened even farther as he stared at the calloused hand on his, memorizing how it looked, how it felt. Before he could truly get used to it, however, it was gone, Hank coughing awkwardly. He turned his eyes to look at the man, who looked back, expression awkward.

"Look, kid, don't… it's fine, okay? I'm not mad. Well, anymore. I just… don't ask me about that. I don't… I can't talk about it. Alright?"

Hank looked sincere, eyes softening when Connor looked into them, his own eyes wide, likely showing the upset he felt ( _stupid, you shouldn't show emotions, what would Amanda do if she saw you-),_ Hank's lips split into a gentle smile. Encouraging. Connor couldn't help but smile back, put at ease by how gentle the usually gruff man was being. It was strange, Connor felt, but nice. He wondered if Hank had gotten experience comforting people while on the force? Maybe he'd ask, one day.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I promise I will not ask again. I'm sorry I had in the first place. I hadn't meant to offend."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, eat your food, alright? You look like a fucking twig."

Connor knew that his weight was actually well within the normal weight for men his size, but he nodded anyway, eating his taco with a much calmer mind, his stomach settled.

The rest of dinner passed in another amicable silence, the two men eating companionably. When Hank finished before Connor, instead of leaving, the man took out a newspaper and began reading, the only movement he made being the occasional turn of a page. Connor finished not long after but decided he didn't want to leave. Instead, he spent his time examining the room and its inhabitants, though he spent most of the time looking at and thinking about Hank. While he couldn't see much of the man behind the paper, he could see those large, deft fingers, and remember how they had felt, hesitatingly touching his own. He'd had to swallow drily as he remembered, head tilted as he tried to understand the man.

Hank was quite easily the most confusing person he had ever met. One minute he was blindingly angry at Connor, the next he was awkwardly trying to comfort him. He was built on such extremes that Connor didn't know how to navigate the man without setting something off accidentally.

But… but part of him liked that, he decided, staring at those grizzled hands. He liked the challenge, liked the unpredictability. Hank wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before, so much better and more exciting than anyone else.

And, as he fell asleep that night, head turned to watch Hank's face, softened with sleep, he wondered where their relationship would take them over the next six months.


	5. The Visit

Hey all! Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was sick and spent all day in bed. Even missed work. Not fun. -.-

Anyway! Next chapter. Warning: suicide mention at the end of the chapter. If you want to skip the more detailed description of it, stop reading at the double asterisks (**), and start reading at the single asterisk (*). It's a short paragraph, at the end of the chapter.

Apologies for making Hank cry again! I promise he doesn't cry all that much more in this story.

Enjoy!

* * *

Hank couldn't help the giant grin that formed on his face as the giant Saint Bernard entered the room, letting out a loud bark when he saw his owner, tail wagging a mile a minute. Hank laughed heartily when Sumo rushed him, almost making him fall over with the impact. Hank couldn't stop grinning as he fell to his knees to hug his dog, sinking his hands into the coarse fur, his face getting attacked by a furious, pink tongue. God, he loves Sundays, the one day a week Ben came and brought Sumo along for a visit. While he enjoyed seeing his old friend, nothing beat reuniting with his dog.

He remembered being told that the lady who had heard the gunshot that night had also mentioned the loud whining and crying coming from a dog, and that had broken Hank's heart. He had locked Sumo in his room before making the attempt, but he guessed the dog had known what he had attempted to do, on some level. That alone made him regret the act. He adored Sumo, more so now that he was all Hank had left, and never wanted to hurt the dog.

Seeing him now was a balm to his aching heart. He'd been so conflicted the past few days about his roommate, so seeing his dog, getting a reprieve from his mind, was an added blessing. He briefly looked up at Ben, who was grinning down at the two, and returned the grin.

"Hey, Ben. What's happening with the force?"

"Oh, same old, same old. Gavin was a dick to a victim and got another disciplinary warning. With you gone, he's quickly catching up to your record. Hope he doesn't give you too much trouble while doing his assigned volunteer work here, after he almost got that suspect killed." Ben shook his head at that, his dislike for the younger detective evident. "Anyway, Chris's wife brought Damian in to visit us all, which was adorable, like usual. And Fowler has actually been in a decent mood this week. I think his wife surprised him with tickets to that new show he wanted to see. How about you, anything new in here?"

Ben always asked that question out of politeness, and while Hank usually scoffed and said impassively that nothing ever happened here, this week he actually had news. Maybe talking about Connor with his friend would help. Who knew. Couldn't hurt, eh?

"Yeah, actually," he started slowly, turning from Sumo to face Ben, though he kept his arms around the dog, "there is something new. I, uh, got a new roommate."

Ben's eyes widened at that, before filling with sympathy. "Ah, I'm sorry, Hank. I know how much you like your space. Is it the guy that Chris brought over, the 30-something attempted murderer?"

Hank winced at being reminded of Connor's crime, but nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's the one. Connor. He's, uh…" shit, how could he describe Connor? "He's a weird one, that's for sure. It's like he doesn't understand human emotion. His face is always blank, or else showing very little about what's going on in that head of his. Just when I think I understand the kid, he throws a fucking curveball that leaves me scrambling. I have no idea what to think about him."

Hank scoffed at the end, turning back to Sumo, who resumed his tail wagging. Before Ben could reply, probably another apology at how much it sucked to get a new roommate (Hank honestly wasn't sure if he agreed, actually. While Connor confused the shit out of him, there was something about the kid that intrigued him), Hank stood up and grinned at Ben, deciding he didn't want to talk about Connor. Why ruin the visit with his confused fucking feelings?

"Hey, let's go take Sumo for a walk. I bet the big lug would love to wander the garden a bit. Maybe fertilize the trees, ya know what I mean?" Hank grinned, patting the dog on his head as he barked happily, having heard the word 'walk.' Hank usually walked Sumo when Ben visited, while Ben hung out by the entrance of the garden, watching the two. Since it was so fucking cold, the man would likely hang out inside, but Hank didn't mind. He liked to spend time alone with Sumo when he could, pretend it was any other day at home, that he didn't have a scar permanently on his skull, or a dog that would always linger just a bit too close to his owner. It was nice.

Ben nodded quickly, a soft smile on his rounded face, dropping the previous conversation like the saint he was.

"Of course, Hank. You don't mind if I stay here, do ya? It's too cold to be hanging around outside."

Hank waved the concern off, telling the man it was fine and that he'd see him later. Part of him felt bad for abandoning the man so soon, but he knew Ben didn't mind. Both of them knew that the only reason Ben visited so often was to let Hank see Sumo, anyway. Otherwise he'd likely visit as infrequently as Chris or the other guys from work. Or maybe even Fowler, who came maybe once every other month. The last time he'd seem the old captain, Hank and the man had gotten into a screaming match, right after Hank had tried to kill himself the last time, so he wasn't too sure if Fowler would bother visiting for a while or not. He tried not to let the thought get him down. He and Jeffery hadn't been friends in years. It was sad, but it was the reality he lived in.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Hank waved at the rotund man, taking Sumo's leash and walking briskly outside. A lot of the patients stopped the two, asking if they could pet Sumo. Most everyone knew Sumo around here, and the dog absolutely loved the attention. Hank accepted it, loving to see his dog so happy, and eventually made their way outside.

He shivered as soon as the door opened, pulling his old, brown jacket further across his chest, hesitating at the door. Most days he didn't bother to dress up, mostly wearing the t-shirts and jeans he wore when he'd had days off, but he liked to dress professionally whenever he had visitors. It made him feel normal again. Today he was dressed in what he affectionately called his hippy outfit, which he liked despite its tackiness. His jacket was thick, but it didn't protect all that much against the frigid air. Sumo, his thick coat protecting him from the cold, had no such reservations about the cold and bounded out the door, almost taking Hank's arm out of his socket.

"Hey, Hey, calm down! Jesus, you're gonna dislocate my fucking arm. Damn dog," Hank grumbled, though he couldn't hide the grin. God, he missed Sumo. That was the worst part of being in here, by far.

Sumo slowed down, allowing Hank to walk him at his own pace. Sumo explored the dying garden, sniffing anything that seemed interesting, barking at the few squirrels he saw. Hank followed the dog around, his breath white in the air, face turning pink with the chill. As they walked about, Hank let his mind wander, and it inevitably fell on the person he least wanted to think about.

Connor. Fucking Connor. The kid would be the death of him, he knew it. His too wide eyes, his too innocent expression. It was like he was trying to make Hank feel like shit for his behavior toward him. If the kid looked like he understood human emotion at all, Hank would have been sure Connor was manipulating him. But he seemed too clueless to do something as insidious as that. It was possible he was just a good actor, but Hank had a feeling that wasn't it. He'd seen enough liars in his life to know when someone was lying or not. And Connor, for all his faults, rarely seemed to lie.

Hank really didn't know what to think of the kid. Part of him liked the kid (and he really needed to stop calling him 'kid,' since Connor had to be in his early thirties, at oldest), while the rest of him hated the kid. It was such a weird juxtaposition. Connor somehow managed to hit all his buttons, his emotionless face instantly setting Hank on edge (absolutely NOT because it reminded him of his father, the piece of shit). But, after he'd show his annoyance or even anger, the kid would look so lost. Like he didn't understand what he had done wrong. Hank clenched his hand as he remembered the terrified, almost tearful look on Connor's face the other day, how upset he had been at angering Hank. Or maybe he had been afraid.

Hank then remembered the kid was supposedly an abuse case, and cursed under his breath, causing Sumo to look up. Shit. No wonder the kid looked so terrified. He'd probably been reminded of whoever had abused him, maybe the 'Amanda' he'd mentioned. Hank resolved to not lose his temper anymore. Ever since Cole- ever since that night, Hank's temper had been quick to rise, causing a shit ton of disciplinary warnings to crop up on his previously flawless record. But he wasn't an abuser. He'd promised after turning 17, after having to bury his mother, that he'd never become a piece of shit abuser like his piece of shit father. He'd managed to go 44 years without having a kid, too afraid of becoming everything he hated, before Cole was born. The minute he held Cole in his arms, though, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He'd rather shoot himself in the head before harming a single hair on that precious boy's head.

Hank abruptly stopped those thoughts, not wanting to cry yet again. Point was, he wasn't interested in terrifying the poor kid. He'd just… God, he didn't even know why he'd been so angry yesterday. For the cleaning of the room thing, at least; he could kind of understand getting pissed about the personal questions. While Connor might not have meant to offend, those questions were pretty fucking offensive. Who the hell asked why someone attempted suicide? The fuck?

But the tidying of the room, that wasn't that bad an offense. Hank had just felt… he didn't even know, concern? Fear? At seeing his room changed. His posters and pictures off the wall. Upon waking, it had just… it had made him anxious, he supposed. Like something was off in the world. And, like he always did those days, he took it out on the nearest body. Connor hadn't even looked outwardly terrified, but Hank was starting to have the sneaking suspicious that when the kid closed off, his expression slamming shut, that he was trying to not show his fear. Something about that depressed Hank, remembering a young boy who had done the exact same thing when his drunk-off-his-ass father took off his belt and threatened to beat him bloody if he so much as made a fucking sound. Hank grit his teeth at that, watching Sumo sniff around one of the trees.

So, he resolved that he'd change his actions toward Connor. The kid didn't deserve his anger. Even though he had attempted to kill Markus, Hank was realizing that it may run a lot deeper than he had previously thought. Maybe Markus had been right. Maybe the kid really did need help, rather than jail.

Hank continued walking Sumo around, letting his mind wander, half the time thinking on random things, but the rest thinking on Connor and his innocent fucking face. Hank was pulled from his thoughts after about 45 minutes of wandering, when he heard an increasingly familiar voice ring out from the silence, almost like he had been conjured from Hank's thoughts. He tried not to groan as he turned to see the pink face of the object of his thoughts, surprised to see a grin on the usually blank face.

"Hey, kid. What the fuck are you doing out here? It's fucking freezing!" Hank exclaimed after noticing that Connor wore nothing more than a simple button dress shirt, which did nothing against the bitter cold. Connor just shrugged, eyes on Sumo.

"I don't mind the cold. It doesn't affect me. I didn't know you had a dog," Connor said, almost accusatory. Like Hank had done him a huge disservice by not mentioning the fact.

"Uh, I hadn't realized it fucking mattered? What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I saw you two from the window," Connor gestured absently to the second-floor window that he knew to be their room, "and I wanted to say hello. May I pet him?"

Connor turned his wide eyes onto Hank, looking so much like the kid Hank called him that all Hank could do was nod dumbly, watching with bemused eyes as Connor knelt down and gently stroked Sumo. He almost laughed when he saw Sumo pretty much attack the kid, making Connor fall on his back as Sumo licked every part of his face he could find. Hank did let out a chuckle at the noise Connor made, halfway between a yelp and a laugh.

"Heel, Sumo, heel. Come on, you beast, let the kid breathe," Hank chuckled, pulling back on the leash. Sumo did as Hank said, though his tail was wagging a mile a minute at the prospect of making a new friend. While the dog was getting old, he loved meeting new people. Connor didn't seem to mind, face split into a grin as he looked up at Hank.

"His name is Sumo?" Connor confirmed, attention going back to the dog when Hank nodded in agreement. "Hi Sumo! I'm Connor, your owner's new roommate. It's good to meet you."

Hank couldn't help the grin at that, at how earnest the kid sounded. It was just like how Cole used to speak to Sumo, when they'd first gotten the dog for his fourth birthday. Hank pushed the thought aside when the stab of pain hit him, tempering his grin.

The two stayed on the ground for several minutes, Connor petting the dog while Sumo happily sniffed the new person. It wasn't until Hank noticed Connor shivering that he pulled Sumo back, chuckling.

"Alright, that's enough for now. Don't worry, Sumo will be back next week. You look like you're fucking frozen, kid. Here," he said, as he shrugged out of his jacket. He ignored the rush of cold, not willing to let the kid freeze out here. Like hell the cold didn't affect him. Connor looked disappointed but took the jacket with a thoughtful look on his face. For a second Hank thought that he'd reject it, but he watched, inside churning in an unknown (heh, yeah right) emotion as the kid put the jacket on, pulling it closed over his shoulders. And, wait, did he fucking sniff the thing? Yeah, this was officially getting weird. Clearing his throat, Hank gestured with his head to the door to the facility.

"Let's head on in, huh? It's too fucking cold to be out here."

Connor nodded his head absently, smiling slightly at Hank, eyes warm for once. Hank ignored the dryness of his throat and started moving towards the door, Connor following closely behind. Sumo whined as they stepped through the door, but followed all the same, tail dropping when he knew their time was almost over. This was the hardest part of the fucking day, Hank knew. Watching Sumo leave, the dog not understanding why Hank couldn't come with. The worst was when Sumo would whine or cry, not wanting to be parted from his owner. That killed Hank, hearing those pitiful whines. Hopefully today would be better.

Together, the trio entered the common room, where Ben was sitting, talking politely to one of the volunteers. Upon seeing them, Ben stood up, smiling pleasantly. He did give Connor a side look though, before looking at Hank with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey Hank, done with the walk?" Ben said, pointedly looking at Connor, asking without words for an introduction.

"Yeah, yeah," Hank grumbled, rolling his eyes, getting the hint. "This is Connor. My new roommate," Hank stressed, eyebrows raised in response to Ben's shocked expression. Connor, not realizing what was going on, held out a hand to the officer, smiling his artificial smile. It made Hank miss that genuine one that Connor had given when he had seen Sumo. Hank hastily pushed that thought aside, not wanting to open that can of worms.

"Hello. It is good to meet you. As Hank said, I am Connor, Hank's new roommate." Jesus. He looked so fucking earnest. It was official, Connor would be the death of him. He quickly wiped the fond look off his face when he noticed Ben giving him a weird look, scowling at the rotund man.

"Uh, yeah, I know. It's, uh, nice to meet you," Ben stammered, thrown off kilter. Probably not what he expected. Yeah, he understood the feeling. "Anyway, I should probably be headed out before the traffic picks up. See you same time next week, Hank?"

Hank nodded, stepping forward to clap the man on the back, reluctantly handing over Sumo's leash. The dog whined at that, but thankfully didn't make any other sounds. Hank knew Sumo liked Ben, but the dog adored Hank. Leaving was hard for them both.

"Yeah, see you next week. Thanks, you know. I really appreciate this," Hank mumbled, like he always did. He would never be able to repay the man for his kindness, but Ben didn't mind. He just shook his head, smile on his face.

"Don't mention it, Hank. You know I love Sumo, and he loves coming to visit. Plus, it's nice to see you." Hank snorted at that, knowing he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around, but appreciating the sentiment all the same. He leaned down and gave Sumo one more pat, scrubbing his ears like the dog loved. Sumo barked, before letting out a whine, licking Hank's face.

"Yeah, I know buddy. I know," Hank muttered to the dog, briefly burying his face in the coarse fur. He hated this. Hated watching Sumo leave. He wished he could go too, though he knew why he couldn't. Still. It hurt so bad.

After a minute Hank stood back, scrubbing his eyes clear of the few tears that had formed. Ben gave him a sad smile, about to turn to leave when Hank remembered what he had wanted to ask the man.

"Shit, wait, hold up a second Ben," Hank called, holding a hand out to stop the man. Ben turned, eyebrows raised, as Hank stepped closer, lowering his voice to that no one else could hear. He distantly noticed that Connor had also leaned in, but he didn't think the kid would tell on him, so he didn't mind too much.

"Next time you come, would you mind, you know… bringing something to drink with you?" Hank raised his eyebrows pointedly, so that Ben would get the meaning. He tried not to feel disappointment when Ben frowned, shaking his head as he looked around, making sure no one could hear. He briefly paused on Connor, before ignoring him like Hank had.

"Hank, you know you're not allowed to drink in here. You're a recovering alcoholic. I'm sorry, but I can't bring you anything."

Hank felt frustration rise at that, but pushed it down, trying to look pathetic. It might work. It had, once. But only once, and it had led Hank to try and kill himself a month previous, so he wasn't so sure he'd win this time.

"Please, Ben. I'm dying in here. Just a little something. Beer, wine. Hell, a fucking cooler. Anything. I promise I won't, you know," he trailed off, looking down, before looking back at Ben.

He saw that Ben was frowning, eyes sad as he looked back at his old friend. Hank knew the two had never been particularly close, but Hank had been a groomsman at the other's wedding, so he knew the man cared about him. Hearing he had tried to off himself again had probably struck a big blow to the genial man. He knew how upset Ben had been that first time, tearfully asking Hank why he'd done it, though obviously knowing the reason. He'd offered to take care of Sumo, though, which was more than Hank could ever have expected.

"I'm sorry Hank, but no. I can't. Not… not after last time. Ask Chris, he might bring you something next time he comes. But I, I can't. I'm sorry."

Ben turned away after that, trying not to let his upset expression show. He clicked his tongue at Sumo, who reluctantly followed, whining a little as he looked back at Hank every few steps, wondering why Hank couldn't come with. Hank felt his throat well up at the sight, and at that fact he had obviously hurt his friend. He continued staring long after the two had vanished from sight, startling only when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Connor's concerned face coming into view when he turned.

"Lieutenant, are you alright?" Connor asked hesitantly, eyes filled with concern. Hank swallowed his pain, and tried to smile, though he was sure it came out as more of a grimace.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm. I'm fine. I think I'm gonna head back to our room. I need to lie down."

Hank gave Connor a quick nod, gently moving his shoulder away so he could head to the stairs, wanting to go lie down and forget the moment had ever happened. Apparently asking Ben for some booze could hurt, after all. Go figure.

He distantly heard Connor say goodbye, but he hadn't paid him any attention. He went to the staircase and started to climb, longing for his bed. It was only 2:00 pm, but he couldn't imagine staying awake a single second longer.

As soon as he entered the room, he felt the tears he had tried to suppress fall, though he hastily scrubbed them away. Fucking idiot, crying over such a stupid thing. So what he had remembered what it had been like, Ben visiting him in the facility, eyes wet when he'd learned Hank had tried to slit his wrist with the glass remains of the bottle he'd given him, after he'd shattered it against the wall? So what he remembered Fowler's anger, masking the deep pain within his eyes? So what he had failed everyone, not getting better liked they had hoped, instead slowly rotting away, inside this fucking facility? So what? What did it matter that he'd fucking die here, alone and forgotten, all his friends having long abandoned him after realizing him for the piece of shit he truly was? What did any of it fucking matter?

Hank let the tears fall, grabbing his hair with his hands, palm pressed against his scar, pushing it viciously. He hated this. He hated this so fucking much.

God, he missed Cole. He'd do anything to just hold his little boy for a single second, to see that happy smile one last time. He'd become a fucking Buddhist monk just to know his boy was happy and sound. But he couldn't. He had no idea what he could do to make it better. And, because he had long since lost his faith in God and thus the afterlife, he wasn't even sure he'd ever see Cole again. He didn't even know that Cole was in a better place.

Hank let out a choked sob, stumbling towards the bed, falling into it and curling up into a ball. He missed alcohol. If he had whiskey he'd just drink until the pain left, but he had nothing. And Ben would never give him another drop, probably too afraid too. And none of the officers really cared enough to potentially run the risk of getting in trouble for bringing contraband into the facility, save maybe Chris, who might not want to bring any in for the same reason as Ben. Chris had taken a liking to Hank when he'd been new on the force, for reasons only God knew, and had taken the news of his second real attempted suicide hard.

**Yeah, Hank had made halfhearted attempts over the year, but nothing as bad as taking the broken glass and slashing both wrists, before feeling afraid and stumbling out the room, yelling for help. He could still feel the thin scars on his wrists, healing much better than the one on his skull, but also likely to never fade. Bitter reminders of the absolute piece of shit Hank truly was. He felt more tears fall, and just let them. No one could see. No one would care even if they did see. Not even Connor. After a few years, no one would give a shit about his worthless ass. They'd all move on, finally realizing how pathetic he was. They wouldn't care anymore.

*As Hank eventually fell asleep, tears still falling, he wondered if there'd ever come a time he didn't cry himself to sleep more than once a week.

He didn't think so.


	6. Operation Get Hank Some Booze

Hey all! So, I had an issue uploading the last chapter so I deleted it and just... started over. I lost my old note, though, so I'll be quick in recapping. Basically, sorry for being late in posting! College started back up on Thursday and things have been hectic. I was also plagued by intense apathy, so... yeah.

I hope you like this chapter! I brought in Kara, Alice, and Luther, since I adore them, and I love the idea of them and Connor getting along. I added some tags to demonstrate the new relationships.

Also! A slur is indicated in this chapter, but I bleeped it out. But, still wanted to let y'all know one was used.

Anyway, please comment! I really would like to know if you're enjoying the story or not, so please let me know. It will definitely help with the apathy I'm feeling. I'll still post, since I have most of the story finished, but it will make me happier to know if people actually like the story or not. :-)

Enjoy!

* * *

Operation _**"Get Hank some booze"**_ was officially a go.

While the name could do some work, Connor had made up his mind on if he should follow Officer Miller's advice and get the older man some alcohol or not. Watching how crestfallen Hank had been after his friend, Ben, had turned down his offer had hurt something deep inside Connor. He didn't even know what it was that hurt, only that he had to rectify it. And if that meant honoring Hank's desire for booze, then so be it. He may be a recovering alcoholic, but a little booze never hurt anyone, right?

Connor ignored all the instances his mind brought up of a "little booze" hurting people and set the new objective. He couldn't stand to see that look in the man's eyes. Not now, not ever. He didn't even know why something deep within him rebelled so much at that dejection… why he couldn't forget seeing Hank, tears in his eyes, doing his best not to let Connor see. Why it had meant so much, the man pushing past his initial distaste for him and getting him dinner that very first night. Why seeing him look so happy while walking his dog, Connor finally understanding those laugh lines he saw on Hank's face… He didn't know why. But it didn't matter, he told himself. What mattered was helping Hank. That's all that mattered, then.

Maybe it would hurt more in the end, but Connor was quickly realizing that he'd do anything to see the older man smile. He ignored the shot of panic he felt at the thought, at the idea that one man could mean so much to him after only a few days and thought about where he could get some alcohol.

It would be tough, he knew. The facility was dry, with only a couple glasses of champagne or wine offered on Christmas and New Year. Other than that, alcohol was restricted. Not a single drop entered the facility, and any found would result in a penalty from the facility, with increased doctor meetings and reduced freedom. Connor didn't care about consequences, though. He just wanted to help Hank. The dry nature of the facility was a challenge, but Connor wasn't feeling deterred. He would find something. He knew he would. He never failed his mission. (Except the one time he did).

With that in mind, Connor looked around the common room, wondering who he could ask to find out where he could find some alcohol, whiskey preferably. His eyes landed on a couple of quietly chatting older ladies, probably in their late fifties or early sixties. Not the most assuming to know about booze. He moved his eyes away and saw a young man, roughly Connor's age, with a scowl on his face. Connor recognized the man as the one from the photo Markus had showed him. Gavin, was it? He was a volunteer, though, so it was probable that he'd tell on Connor if he so much as tried to ask for the illegal substance. Probably a no, but would work as a last case scenario, since he had the feeling the man liked to drink in his down time. He worked for the DPD, right? High stress job, he likely drank to wind down.

Annoyance building, Connor moved his eyes away, until he saw a larger, stocky gentleman, with deep brown skin and the most soulful and yet still empty eyes he'd ever seen. He supposed of the people in the room, he'd be Connor's best bet. Connor quickly went to see the man, falsely pleasant smile in place on his lips.

"Hello," he began, watching the man turn his empty eyes onto Connor, almost making him freeze. He quickly shoved the uneasy feeling away and kept smiling. "My name is Connor. I'm the new patient here. Do you mind if I sit next to you for a little while?"

The man didn't answer, just continued to stare at him. Just as Connor was starting to feel uncomfortable with the lengthy silence, the other man nodded his head once, carefully, and looked away. Taking that as permission, he sat down, fiddling with his hands. Perhaps he should find himself a coin, as well. He created a sub-objective to his main one. _**Find a quarter**_ _._

A few seconds of silence paused between the two, the darker skinned gentleman (and Connor felt that it was only right to call him a gentleman) not saying a single word. Connor wondered if he was one of the nonverbal patients. Well, one way to find out, right?

"I had a question, actually, if you don't mind answering?"

Connor waited a few seconds, starting to feel annoyed, before the other man slowly turned his eyes to him, inclining his head slightly. Smiling tightly back, Connor continued.

"See, I was wondering where one could get some alcohol around here? It's been a while since I last had some and was wondering if they had any here?"

Connor knew that they didn't serve alcohol here, but it seemed like the safest bet to act ignorant, so if anyone told on him, he could plea ignorance. Plus, it wasn't a lie that it had been a while since he'd had alcohol. Not since he had turned 21 and one of his older siblings, who liked Connor more than any of the others did, had taken him to his first bar. He'd hated the stuff instantly and had vowed to never drink it again. Besides, Amanda detested the stuff. Said it was too big of a distraction from the mission. But it was best to let people think the alcohol was for him, not Hank.

Just when Connor thought the other man wouldn't reply at all, that he was, indeed, nonverbal, the man spoke, his voice deep and smooth, if a little rough from lack of use.

"They don't serve alcohol."

The words were short, taciturn, and the man turned away again, looking back at the door he had been previously staring at. Annoyance filled Connor. He decided to press further.

"Ah, well, surely there must be a way to get some?" Connor asked, a touch desperately. He wasn't sure what he'd do if this didn't work. How many people could he ask before someone got suspicious? He could see the scowling man look their way, scowl deepening when he saw the two together. Connor just smiled politely, hoping he wouldn't come closer, and looked back at the other man. He was met with two deep mahogany eyes, a deeper brown than his own. He felt unease fill him again as the man seemed to stare into his soul, looking at everything Connor hid and finding it lacking. He suppressed the shudder trying to escape and just waited patiently. This man was one who would take a few seconds before answering, it seemed. As long as he answered, that was fine with Connor.

"He shouldn't have alcohol."

Connor froze at the comment, his eyes widening when he realized the man had, indeed, seen through him. He must have been watching them when they'd been talking. How had he heard about the alcohol, though? He must have been half a room away. Connor tried to deny it, words stammering.

"I-I, I don't know what you're talking about. The alcohol would be for me. Not… not for anyone else. Just me."

He hated how his voice betrayed him. Amanda would be so ashamed. He hope she never visited, so she'd never see how weak he'd become. The man just continued to stare, obviously not believing him. The emotionless face, so void of emotion that even Connor felt uncomfortable, made Connor wondered if this is how people felt when talking to him. No wonder they all seemed so unnerved by him. He decided he'd try and show more facial emotion when talking to people who he was closer to, like Hank.

Connor watched as the other man slowly shook his head, before looking away, looking at the scowling man. Gavin.

"He has some. In his cubby. In the nurse station. I heard him mention it. Whiskey."

The taciturn words made Connor light up, grinning as he realized that the man had decided to help him after all.

"Thank you! This will help immensely. I'll repay you one day, I promise." Connor meant it. He'd find a way to help the other man. Unfortunately, either his outburst or the other man's staring has caught Gavin's attention, causing the man to scowl deeper and stalk over to them, eyes dark. Connor instantly disliked the man, eyes becoming guarded. He would try and be friendly, but the man put him instantly on edge. Not unlike Hank had, but this man seemed different to Hank. While Hank had a soft underbelly, it seemed like this man was armored all throughout. Connor would have to be careful around him. Once the man was close enough, he could read his name tag, which had "Gavin Reed" printed neatly on it.

"What the fuck are you two muttering about, huh? I thought you didn't talk Luther, or have you finally found your brain?" The man sneered, looking cruelly at the darker skinned man, whose name appeared to be Luther. Luther said nothing, just stared blankly at the man. That just made him angrier, sneer deepening.

"Just like I thought, you fucking idiot. Stop staring at me while you wait for your precious girlfriend and her fucking brat, alright? And you," Officer Reed turned and faced Connor, sneer somehow intensifying, "I don't care what the fuck Markus says, you're a piece of shit murderer, and I don't want you coming anywhere near me, you hear? You fucker." Reed spat the words out, before turning and stalking away, down the hall to the classrooms. Connor couldn't help the scowl that came onto his face at the man's words. God, what an asshole. He had a feeling his older brother Nines, the one who had taken him drinking, would like the man. Or despise him. Either or.

Pushing the man out of his mind, he turned back to his conversation partner, surprised when he saw the man's face light up, the only emotion he'd seen on the stoic face since he'd sat down.

"Kara. Alice. You're here," the man- Luther, Connor reminded himself- said, face splitting into a small smile, which looked like a grin on his usually expressionless face.

"Luther!"

Connor watched as a little girl, no older than 9 or 10, came rushing over to Luther, her face alight with happiness. Luther slid down onto the ground and wrapped both arms around the girl, squeezing her tightly when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Connor couldn't help the small smile that rose on his face at the touching scene before him. Then a woman in her late twenties came forward, a small, fond smile on her face as she watched the scene, eyes misty as she watched the two. Connor recognized her as the one from the other picture on the wall. Kara, he remembered. That made the little girl Alice, then.

"It's so good to see you, Luther. I'm sorry we're a bit late, Alice wanted to make you a present and had to finish it before we left."

Kara held out a small piece of paper, which had crayon marks on it. From what Connor would see, it was a picture of a man, woman, and little girl. The man looked similar to Luther, his skin dark and his build stocky, broad. The drawing Luther had a wide grin on his face, though, as he held the girl in his arms. The woman stood to the side, smiling just as wide as the others. It was a nice drawing, with a heart drawn around it, with the words "my family" written in messy, childish script on the side. It looked sweet. Connor felt the man would like it a lot.

He was right, watching the man lift the girl into his arms, like in the drawing, taking the drawing with his free hand. Connor swore he saw tears rise in his eyes as the man looked at the drawing. He carefully wrapped the arm around Alice, holding her close as he kissed the top of her head gently.

"Thank you, Alice. I love it. I will cherish it always."

The two began to speak in hushed tones, both seeming happy to talk to one another. Connor didn't realize he had been staring until the woman, Kara, sat beside him and began speaking softly.

"It's nice seeing them like this. I remember when Alice and I met him a few months ago and he refused to speak to anyone. Alice took a shining to him, reading him her favorite books, and he slowly grew to adore her. Now they're practically inseparable whenever we visit. Alice adores him, and he adores her right back. It makes me glad, to see them both so happy."

Kara spoke the words with soft wonder, eyes soft as she watched the pair. It seemed to him that Alice wasn't the only one who adored Luther, but he said nothing, just smiling politely back. Kara tore her eyes from the pair and smiled kindly at Connor.

"Hello. You must be new here. I'm Kara, and that's my daughter, Alice. We come in to read to the nonverbal patients, though we tend to spend most of our time with Luther these days. What's your name?"

She was very nice, Connor decided. He liked her immensely, and smiled back, not having to force it.

"My name is Connor, and I am, indeed, new here. I arrived on Friday."

"Wow, so you just got here. How do you like it so far? I think it's very nice, the rooms very lived in and homely."

That was one way to put it. Falling apart, would be another. But Kara seemed to mean her words, looking at the facility with fondness in her eyes. He wondered if she had been a former patient? He thought about asking but decided against it. He didn't want to offend her, like he'd offended Hank. While he didn't think she'd yell at him, he didn't want to see her happy face fall if he messed up.

"I think it's… different, to what I'm used to. But I think I can grow to like it, in time."

The words were true, at least. He felt that he could come to enjoy his time here.

"What do like most about it?" Kara asked, angling her body towards him, giving him her full attention. Connor thought about the question, before answering honestly.

"My roommate. He's... challenging, but I enjoy getting to know him. Other than that, I've not had enough time to determine what I enjoy about the facility. I suppose Dr. Rose is nice, so that is something."

Connor watched as Kara's eyes lit up at the mention of the African American woman, her smile blooming on her face.

"Oh! Rose! Yes, she's so kind, isn't she?" Kara gushed, eyes wide with wonder at the apparent kindness of the woman. "She helped Alice and I when we were on the run from Alice's abusive adoptive father. Alice isn't my actual daughter, I was actually her nanny at first, but I took Alice and left her father, and ran into Rose, who helped us escape and helped me get custody of Alice. We started coming here to show her our gratitude, which led us to Luther. She's helped us so much over the years. I'm sure she'll be great help to you, too. She's so kind."

Connor grew concerned when he saw Kara's eyes turn misty as she mentioned Alice's father, but did his best to offer comfort to the young woman. He placed his hand gently on hers, like Hank had done to him the other night.

"I'm sure she will. I'm glad she was able to help you so much. You two seem to deserve it," Connor said softly, doing his best to smile softly, encouragingly, like Hank had. He must have succeeded, because the woman just smiled wide, grabbing Connor's hand with her other one, creating a bit of a hand sandwich. He distantly noted that both Luther and Alice were watching them now, eyes curious, but he had eyes only for Kara, somehow feeling this moment was important.

"Thank you, Connor. I hope things work out for you and you find what you're looking for here. You deserve to get better and find happiness, I promise."

Something about the words made Connor's eyes water, which he did his best to blink away. Throat too thick to speak, he just nodded, giving Kara a wobbly smile. He saw in his peripheral Alice wiggling to be let down, instantly heading for Connor when Luther let her go. She smiled big at him, giving him a quick hug, not caring that it might be strange to hug a man she had just met. It made Connor's eyes water more. He had always enjoyed being around kids, doing his best to help his younger siblings when Amanda's disappointment grew too harsh for them. He hugged Alice back, hiding his tears in her long hair. He pulled back after a second, knowing any longer would be inappropriate, even with how he longed to keep holding on. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him. Probably since he, himself, was a child. The thought saddened him, and he found he couldn't push the emotion down like usual.

"Kara's right, you deserve to be happy! I'm Alice, and we can be friends, if you want. Kara tells me that friends make other people happy, and I'd like to help you be happy, if you want!"

Connor felt a tear slip out at the innocent words, unbidden, his heart breaking in ways he didn't understand. He'd never had a friend before. He didn't think Hank counted, not yet at least. He unintentionally let out a soft sob, his heart breaking further at the heartbroken look that filled Alice's face.

"Oh no! I didn't mean to make you cry! I'm sorry!" Alice cried, looking at Kara for guidance. Connor pushed down his sorrow, the best he could, and smiled at Alice, wanting to make her know that it wasn't her that had caused the tears. Honestly, he didn't know what had caused them. It was illogical to be so upset. He pushed the emotion down farther but tried to keep the happiness.

"No, it's not your fault, don't worry. I, I would love to be your friend, Alice, if you don't mind. Very much so," he assured earnestly, eyes wide and smile big. His heart still felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, but he shoved it aside, focused on making Alice feel better. _**Become friends with Alice.**_ The objective popped up in his mind almost unbidden, but he agreed with it immensely. He liked Alice, he decided, and wanted to be her friend. Alice had a huge grin on her face when he said that, quickly taking his hand, tugging him insistently.

"Yay! Come on, I want to show you something! Oh, and what's your name?"

Connor laughed at that, the first real laugh he'd let out in years. There was something so innocent about the girl asking to be his friend before even learning his name. He heard Luther chuckle as well, and knew the man understood his sentiment. This girl would do amazing things, Connor felt, as he stood and followed her to the wall, where she took out some games to play.

"Connor," he stated, smile big as he took a seat and helped set up the game. "My name is Connor."

Over the next couple hours the two played games, while Kara and Luther spoke quietly together. At one point another patient came over and smiled big at Alice, another person ensnared by her overwhelming positivity. The patient called himself Jerry and joined them in their game. It was… nice, Connor decided, eyes soft as he watched Alice talk animatedly with Jerry, who spoke rapidly back, like an overgrown child. It was like he was part of a real family. He understood perfectly why Luther looked at Alice like she hung the moon and the stars. She truly was something special.

Kara too, he figured, watching the woman laugh gently at something Luther had said, figurative hearts in her eyes as she gently touched his arm, smile wide at something the man had said. Their story, what little he had been told, had been a sad one, so Connor was glad the woman had found some happiness with Alice and Luther. He was grateful the little family had allowed him to join them, if only for a couple hours on a Sunday afternoon. He tried to ignore the anxiety that filled him as happiness entered his heart, guilty at allowing himself to feel anything at all. It worked, but only barely.

It was around 5:30 that Kara informed Alice that they'd have to get going, if they wanted to be home in time for dinner. Alice let out a whine at that, begging to stay just a few more minutes, please? Kara smiled softly, and gave her five minutes, which she used to help Connor and Jerry clean up the game, even though the two had told her they could handle it. By the time it was time for her to leave, Alice gave both Jerry and Connor a big hug, making more tears fill Connor's eyes as he wrapped his arms around the little girl. He really did enjoy children. Maybe he'd have his own child, one day. Maybe. He hoped they'd be like Alice, if he did.

Once done with the hug, Alice then turned to Luther and let him pick her up and swing her around, her laughter ringing around the room. It was a sweet scene, and Connor's face hurt from how much he'd been smiling over the last couple hours. He didn't think he'd ever smiled so much. It was nice.

Finally, Kara and Alice had to leave, Kara giving Connor a small hug as well, handing him a small piece of paper and telling him to call her if he ever needed help or advice, as well as telling him the two would be back to read to patients on Tuesday at 2:00. He smiled yet again and assured her he would call, though he wasn't sure he was telling the truth. He didn't want to impede on her generosity. She smiled gently, before telling him softly that he deserved to feel happy, that he didn't have to feel guilty about feeling happy. Connor didn't know how she knew how much guilt he had felt creeping into his heart at how happy he had felt, but he had just nodded tightly, throat tight and aching.

Finally they left, leaving Connor feeling almost empty inside, like the little family had taken part of him with them. He could tell that both Jerry and Luther felt the same, both men deflating as the two ladies left. Jerry glumly walked away, while Luther's eyes dimmed, growing emotionless once again. Connor was about to leave when he felt a strong hand stop him by his shoulder, causing Connor to turn to face the now serious faced man.

"She's right, Connor. You do deserve happiness. And so does he. Make sure you stay with him, when you give him the bottle. Keep your eyes on him. Alright?" The words were taciturn once more, the soft words he used when talking to Alice and Kara turned back to his usual emotionless tones. But Connor understood the words, and nodded thickly, suddenly remembering the objective he had forgotten about in his excitement over befriending Alice. But he remembered now. And he would do as Luther said.

"Yes. Thank you. Truly." Connor attempted a smile, but it seemed that Alice took his smile with her, as he could barely make out anything more than a grimace. Luther understood, though, for he nodded stiffly, before heading back to sit at the chair beside the piano, staring emotionlessly ahead of him, as still as a tree.

Connor turned and sat at a chair facing the nurses' station, a plan formulating in his mind on how he'd sneak in to steal his desired booze.

_—_

It wouldn't be easy, Connor knew that much. He knew he had to steal the booze today, since Reed would be gone until the next weekend and he didn't know if the man left his booze there or not, but that left him little time to prepare. He briefly thought about sneaking in after hours, but figured that A, he'd be more likely to be caught and B, Reed would have likely left by then. So, Connor decided that he'd plan his heist for dinner time, giving him a two-hour window in which to execute his plan. It really was genius, he felt. Most nurses would be at dinner, either helping patients or eating their own food, as would the volunteers and orderlies.

He'd still have to be careful, though, as not everyone would be in the dining hall, but he figured the common room would be empty, allowing him to sneak into the nurses' station much easier. There was the question on how he'd gain access, but that had an easy answer. On one of his first visits to Jericho, before he'd been officially omitted, he'd stolen one of the orderly's badges, figuring it couldn't hurt to have. And, since he wouldn't be in the facility when it was noticed missing, no one would suspect it was him. Connor fingered the badge he had hastily put in his pocket before rushing down to meet Sumo, which seemed so long ago now, with everything that had happened that day.

He watched as the tone that signified dinner rang, causing everyone in the common room, which had slowly filled over the hours he had played with Alice, to empty out, leaving the only people in the room him and Luther, all the nurses busy helping patients enter the dining hall. Luther met his eye, and nodded slowly, eyes turning to the door that separated the two rooms. Connor felt a rush of affection for the stoic man. It seemed that he would have a lookout. That would come in handy.

With a quick look to the stairway to make sure no one would exit anytime soon, Connor stood carefully and casually made his way to the nurses' station, his mind relaxing as he did what he did best, complete a mission. He carefully looked around the area before slipping the keycard out of his pocket, swiping it and carefully squeezing through the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Which was pretty damn quick and quiet, if he did say so himself.

Once in the nurses' station, Connor quickly darted his eyes around, noticing two women chatting lightly in one of the rooms, not paying him any mind. Yet. Connor didn't know where the volunteer's cubbies were, though, and so he had to be mindful of them as he snooped around.

With that in mind, he quietly slipped behind the desk that stood before the window that separated the common room and the nurses' station. He crouched down and made sure to hide under the desk, so no one could see him, and he examined the drawers he could see. Carefully opening them, he didn't find anything of interest, and just closed the drawers again. He did find a pack of stickers, though, likely for young visitors, and he took a couple to give Alice the next time she came, on Tuesday. He felt she would like them, as they had princesses on them, and cute puppies. Actually, he kind of wanted to keep one of the puppy ones. He was sure Alice wouldn't mind.

However, the stickers weren't useful to his current mission, so he stuffed them into the pocket of the jacket Hank had given him that morning and kept looking. Finally realizing he'd get nothing, Connor turned to look elsewhere, before spotting a key on the table. Thinking quick, he decided to take the silver key, determining it might be useful later. He'd just have to remember to return it to its spot before he left. He quickly memorized the position it was in, before darting his hand out to grab it.

His theft successful, Connor put the key in the jacket pocket and carefully snuck out from behind the desk and looked around the room. He saw an empty room to his left, and quickly entered it, making sure no one saw him. When he was sure no one had, Connor explored the room carefully, mindful of the open door. However, the room was empty, save some cleaning supplies. Grabbing a small thing of bleach (he still wanted some to fight the tougher stains on the walls), he found nothing else of interest, and quickly left the room.

Over the next several minutes, Connor entered and exited quite a few empty rooms, taking some medical supplies when he could. He had even found a quarter lying around, which had excited him. At least the night wouldn't be in vain if he didn't find the alcohol, he thought sardonically. Finally, the only door he had left in the main room was the room the two women were standing in. Of course, he thought sarcastically. The room he likely needed was the only one occupied. As Hank would probably say, of fucking course.

Since Connor doubted the cubbies would be far from the main room, if only for ease of access, Connor watched as the two women chatted together, wondering what he could do. A minute passed before he remembered Luther, an idea, probably bad, forming. Moving back behind the desk, he made sure the two women weren't watching and carefully stood up, eyes darting around to make sure no one had entered the room. He had the feeling that Luther would have done something had anyone come in, but he had to be sure.

Seeing the coast was clear, Connor carefully stood up, waving his arm minutely to gain the larger man's attention. He watched as Luther turned to face him, head tilted slightly in question. Connor pointed carefully to his left, where the two women chatted (though Luther couldn't see), and mouthed the words, 'nurses. Help,' at Luther. Luckily, Luther could either read lips, or else understood his urgency, for the man nodded and mouthed back the word 'hide.' Connor nodded in return, carefully going back to the first room he had found, with the cleaning supplies. After a second, he heard Luther stand up, approaching the window between the two rooms.

"Nurse? I need some help," Luther's deep baritone rang out, getting the two nurses' attention. Luckily, both exited the room to go see what Luther needed, making the way clear for Connor to sneak in. Carefully, walking noiselessly across the floor, Connor snuck passed the two nurses, who were helping out a confused sounding Luther figure out what medication he was taking, what it reacted with, and if Alice could bring him cookies the next time she came, if they'd interact with the meds, etcetera. For a quickly formulated plan, it worked very well, likely to keep the nurses busy for quite a few minutes. But he didn't need that much time.

Entering the room the nurses had just exited from, Connor knew instantly it was the right room. The room was clearly a break room for the nurses, volunteers, and doctors, filled with nice coffee makers and a small TV that looked only slightly nicer, if smaller, than the one in the common room. Along the back wall, though, Connor saw a small closet with a paper that read, 'individual cubbies' atop it. Grinning, Connor headed toward it, grin slipping as he noticed the door was locked. Taking out the key he had found, he prayed that it fit the door, and almost danced with joy when the key fit. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about finding a hair pin or paper clip to pick the lock with, wasting precious time.

Sliding into the newly open door, Connor quickly looked through the numerous cubbies, trying to find the one with Reed's name on it. He briefly stopped when he saw the name Manfred, Markus written in neat script on one of the cubbies, before hastily moving on. While he still had the objective to learn more about Markus, it wasn't the most pressing objective at the moment.

It took him about a minute, but he finally found the desired cubby, Reed, Gavin printed in blocky, messy print, smudged lightly at the corner. Jackpot.

As carefully as he could, Connor opened the cubby and carefully rooted around to find the alcohol he had been told was there. It didn't take long to find. Hidden under a DPD jacket was a bottle of Jim Beam, nearly full. Connor couldn't help the grin that escaped him, his eyes practically burning with glee. He'd done it! He then quickly controlled his expression, telling himself that he wasn't done until he safely exited the room and made it to his and Hank's bedroom. That in mind, Connor was about to exit the closet when he heard Luther's voice grow louder, causing Connor to listen in.

"Detective Reed. It is good to see you. How are you tonight?"

Luther did his best to sound pleasant, but Connor could hear a hint of warning in his deep tones. Crap. Of course, the one person he wanted to arrive the least had to come. Of. Fucking. Course.

Connor could practically hear the sneer as Reed ignored the man, heading into the nurses' station and heading directly to the break room, probably done for the day and looking to go home. Getting his things. From his cubby. Which Connor was currently hiding beside, bottle of stolen whiskey still gripped tight in his hand.

Crap. Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP.

Alright. Not the time to panic. He'd faced worse odds before. Connor shrewdly looked around the small room, the analytical mind that Amanda had beaten into him taking over, analyzing his surroundings. The room was small, not much space for a man his size to hide in, but perhaps he could squeeze behind the cubbies opposite Reed's…? It would be a tight fit and would look out of place if Reed bothered to look closer, but it might work if the man was in a hurry and wasn't paying too close attention?

Before he could execute his, admittedly horrible, plan, he heard Luther, the glorious man he was, speak up.

"Detective Reed, wait. I have a question, please. It will only take a second."

Reed scoffed, but Connor could see through the tiny crack that had been left open when he'd entered the room that Reed had stopped, looking at Luther from just inside the break room.

"Oh, so now you talk, huh? Your screws finally tighten and make you a real boy?" Reed sneered, before sobering up when one of the nurses reprimanded his behavior. Connor couldn't see his face from the angle he was at, but imagined the man looked murderous. But he thankfully turned back to the main room, walking behind the desk to talk to Luther. Yes!

"Yeah, fine, what the fuck do you want? Make it quick, my shift is over, thank fuck, and I'd like to get home, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Detective, I'll be quick. I was curious about a law I had read about, in this old book in the library…"

Luther continued, but Connor tuned it out, quickly and quietly opening the door to sneak out. He closed it softly, the door automatically locking, and looked at the key still in his hand. He wouldn't be able to place it back where he found it, but he could at least drop it off on the counter in the break room. He placed the bottom of whiskey into the inner pocket of the jacket Hank had given him (thank God the man had, or else this would have been that much more challenging), and carefully placed the key on the counter. Maybe whoever had left it would assume they had just forgotten to put it back. Or maybe they'd assume someone else moved it. Regardless, Connor quickly exited the room, turning left to exit the nurses' station fully. He stayed down, under the counter, waiting for Luther to finish his questions so that the nurses and Reed would turn around, letting Connor move through the common room without fear of being spotted.

"-and that's how the law fucking works. Now, if you're done wasting my time, can I finally go now?!" Reed growled, sounding majorly pissed off. Maybe he could use a drink, Connor thought with a vicious grin. He saw Luther nod his head, not acknowledging Connor, though he knew the man saw him.

"Of course, thank you, Detective. I appreciate you stopping to help me out. Same to you, ladies. I'm glad that Alice's cookies won't interfere with my medication."

The nurses cooed at him, assuring him that it was no big deal and that they were happy to help. Reed just scoffed, before storming off into the break room. It took a couple more seconds before the other nurses followed suit, but it wasn't long before Luther looked at him from the corner of his eyes and nodded almost motionlessly for the door. Connor couldn't help the rush of affection for the man, so grateful he had decided to help. Without him, this whole thing would have ended much more poorly, he was sure of that. Vowing to find a way to repay the man, Connor carefully made his way to the staircase, still crouching just in case. The weight of the bottle was foreign against his side, but it didn't unbalance him too much that he was afraid he'd fall.

Just as he'd reached the open door that led to the staircase, Connor heard an unholy screech get let out from the nurses' station, before stomping feet exited the room and hateful eyes stared at Luther from across the window. Connor slowly slid into the hallway before the staircase, but stayed so he could listen in. Foolish, yes, but he had to know if Reed was good to make a fuss or not. So he knew if he had to hide the booze immediately or not. If the staff knew the booze was missing, they'd be actively looking for it, which went against Connor's plans.

"What the FUCK did you do with it, you fucking bastard?!" Reed demanded, voice loud with anger. He wouldn't be surprised if people heard from the dining hall, Reed was so loud.

Connor heard shuffling from behind the window, the two nurses likely coming back to deal with the enraged Gavin Reed.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Detective. What did I do with what?" Luther returned, voice calm and emotionless, betraying nothing. Oh, he was good, Connor thought with a grin. He'd make a good spy for the Company. Connor ignored the knife in his heart at the thought of his (former?) employment.

"You know, you fucking asshole! What, you thought I wouldn't notice, you re***d?! What did you do with my fucking booze?!"

"With your what?!" One of the two nurses cried, voice scandalized. He heard Reed take in a sudden inhale of breath, suddenly realizing that he was yelling about something he hadn't been supposed to have. Connor held his breath, wondering which would win out: Reed's anger, or his self-preservation.

His self-preservation won out, it seemed, as the man audibly deflated, shuffling around behind the station.

"Shit. I mean, never mind. Forget I said anything. Doesn't matter," Reed mumbled, though Connor could imagine the glare he gave to Luther, promising retribution. Luther just stared blankly back, showing no signs of emotion.

Feeling assured that Reed wouldn't make the theft known, Connor stood and climbed the stairs to reach his room, a grin on his face. He mentally crossed off his objective of " **obtain booze** " off his list, now moving on to actually handing the booze to Hank. This would be the best part, he thought, imaging how ecstatic the older man would be. Maybe they'd even become friends because of it.

Taking the steps two at a time, Connor quickly reached the top, hurriedly racing to reach his and Hank's shared room. He managed to reach it with no interruptions and quickly opened the door, closing it softly, leaning against it as he let the tension that had built up during his heist finally release.

He had done it. He had gotten the booze and made it to his room with no one the wiser that he'd done it. Reed might be able to figure out who Luther had been helping, the detective likely shrewd enough to remember that Connor and Luther and been sitting together earlier, watching him while talking quietly to each other, but that was another problem for another time. Now, he had only one goal left. Give Hank the booze. Grinning ear to ear, Connor turned to face the room, noticing how dark it was, the room bathed in moonlight. His eyes quickly were drawn to the bed on the right, heart clenching as he saw the curled-up form of Hank.

The man looked miserable, even in sleep. How long had he been lying like that, Connor wondered, eyes sad? It couldn't have been good for his back. Hank's eyes were shut tight, the eyelids moving rapidly as his eyes looked at whatever horrors his mind had conjured, and his lips were drawn into a deep frown, making him look years older yet again. Well, that look would disappear once he saw the prize Connor had for him. Carefully taking the jacket off, taking the booze out of the inner pocket, Connor placed the jacket on the back of the one chair in the room, pushing it into the desk. The desk itself was pretty nice now that the clutter was gone, a deep mahogany thing with the ancient house-phone atop it, but Connor didn't have time to admire it. He turned to Hank's sleeping form, heart clenching once again at the sight.

Stepping carefully closer, Connor lightly placed his hand along the older man's cheek, relishing in the feel of whiskers that tickled his hand, small smile rising on his lips. Tapping the cheek lightly, Connor called the man's name.

"Hank. Hank, wake up! I have something for you!" Connor didn't even realize he had called the man by his first name for the first time. He was too excited to wake him to remember formalities.

Hank stirred slightly, but ultimately stayed asleep. Letting his hand caress the sleep warm, whiskered face, Connor then pulled the hand back and lightly slapped the man, hard enough to wake him up but not hard enough to hurt.

"Lieutenant, wake up! I have something to show you!"

That woke the man up, Hank jolting upright, pinning Connor against the bed in three seconds flat, eyes wild but focused as he pinned Connor down. Connor couldn't help the flash of heat that filled him, though he quickly pushed it away. He felt Hank let him go a second later, once he realized who Connor was and that he wasn't there to hurt him. Connor tried not to regret the lack of a body pressing against him as he slowly sat up, eyes beguiling as he watched Hank.

"Wha' the Fu… Connor? Wha' you doin' 'ere?" Hank slurred, eyes drooping from his rough awakening. Connor felt a stab of pity for the man but knew his surprise beat whatever the man had been seeing in his dream realm. Grinning widely, Connor held out the bottle, amusement rising as he saw the man look at it in confusion.

"I got you a surprise," Connor grinned, watching at Hank grew more and more conscious, eyes widening when he noticed the bottle.

"Is that… fucking hell, don't tell me that's what I think it is?!" The man exclaimed in wonder, eyes wide as he took in the bottle. Connor barely had time to nod, grin so wide that his face started to hurt, before he'd felt his body get grabbed, getting pulled somewhere.

He had felt a small stab of fear hit him, wondering if he'd misjudged again, if Hank was actually angry, but all thought flew out of him mind as soon as he'd felt warm, rough lips press firmly against his own, causing Connor's entire brain to shut down as he memorized the sensation, down to the very last nerve.

Hank was kissing him.

 _Hank_ , was _kissing him_.

And God did it feel good.

* * *

A/N: So, apparently Connor is a kleptomaniac. Who knew?

Also, fun fact, I had to look up famous whiskey makers, like the underage nerd that I am. Jim Beam's a good brand, right?


	7. The Aftermath

Hi! So I'm early! I felt bad about being so late last time, so I figured I'd post a day early. Plus, last chapter was a cliffhanger. So, yeah.

Trigger warnings: Alcohol abuse, and mentions of suicide. I put two asterisks (**) next to the paragraph that had a direct reference to the attempt, and a single asterisk (*) where it ended.

Also, I feel like it's obvious, but I've never been drunk. I'm only 20 (though I turn 21 February 10th), and have only been out of the U.S. once, where I only drank a couple things that I despised. So I probably messed up the depiction of someone being drunk. So. Sorry about that.

Enjoy!

* * *

All thought flew out of his mind the second his lips touched the warm, soft, pliant lips of his roommate. All he could think was _Holy fucking shit balls, I'm fucking kissing Connor fucking Stern, what the ever-loving FUCK?!_ , before pushing the thought aside, mind hyper focusing on every single sensation that he felt on his lips, the lips in front of him moving slightly to get a better angle, causing butterflies to ignite in his stomach. He hadn't kissed anyone in such a fucking long time. God was it nice.

He hadn't meant to kiss Connor. It had been impulse, his tired mind seeing the booze and becoming overwhelmed. He hadn't expected to see it, not after his angst filled thoughts from earlier. Nor had he expected to waken from his nightmare about the crash to face the warm eyes of his roommate, whom he was quickly losing his mind over. Everything altogether had led Hank's sleep-addled mind into the wonderful thought of 'I must kiss the angel who brought me such a heavenly gift.' If he was being honest, he'd have probably kissed Fowler himself had the man been the one who had brought it instead of Conner.

Not that he regretted that Connor's was the mouth his was pressed to. He had to admit, while the kid was obviously frozen with the same shock Hank felt, his lips felt so nice against Hank's rough, chapped ones. They felt velvet smooth, like they were made of warm, pliant plastic. And when Connor moved his lips, just slightly, Hank felt an intense heat wash over his belly, making him want to grab the boy and have his wild way with him, fucking him until all he knew was Hank, Hank, Hank. Hank had always known that he'd swung both ways, but something about the thought felt wrong to him.

That was when his brain finally kicked in and he realized that he was kissing Connor. His fucking roommate. A kid he had fucking traumatized not even a day past. What. The ever-loving. _Fuck_?

Pulling back as hastily as he'd rushed in, Hank stared at Connor with the widest eyes, noticing Connor had the same look. Only, the kid looked mildly nauseous. Oh, Fuck.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck. Fucking shit, fuck shit," Hank cursed eloquently, cursing his stupidity, his sleep addled mind, and his mother, for birthing such a fucking moron.

Connor just looked dazed, hand absentmindedly raising to touch his lips, in what Hank would call wonder if he hadn't known better. The nauseated look was still on Connor's face, letting Hank know what he truly felt. Of course he hadn't wanted a kiss from Hank. Hank was an old, run down ex-cop, whose personality could only be called a dumpster fire, while his looks left a lot to be desired. He'd probably throw up if someone like him had dared try to kiss him. Likely deck the fucker, too. Connor looked too dazed to do either thing, but it didn't mean he had wanted it. Fuck. Hank just assaulted his roommate, in his own bed. Shit. Fucking fuck, fuck, shit balls. Fuck.

"Shit. Kid. I'm so, so _fucking_ sorry, I shouldn't have- I wasn't thinking- I hadn't meant to- I- fucking… SHIT!" Hank exclaimed, rubbing his hand viciously through his hair, enjoying the twinge his scar gave in return. His word were failing him. God damn it. He took a deep breath and tried to make it right. Connor was looking at him now, eyes less dazed than before, but the nauseated look remained. Fuck.

"Look, kid. I hadn't meant to fucking kiss you. Hell, had you been literally anyone else, even a fucker like _Reed_ , I'd probably have kissed you. Shit, that makes it worse. Uh, just. It wasn't. Personal, you know? I was still half asleep, and my mind saw booze, and had the thought of, 'I must kiss whatever angel brought me that shit,' or something like that. You get me?" Hank rambled, not remembering a time he had felt so awkward before. Not even the first time he'd kissed a girl and gotten their braces stuck together, eventually having to ask her very conservative, very Catholic father for help, tears leaking from her eyes as the furious man had attempted to free them. Now THAT had been awkward. This? This took the cake. Easy. At least that was funny in retrospect. He felt that this would never be funny.

He watched, anxiety mounting, as Connor blinked slowly, mind processing the information. Hank could almost see a red buffering symbol at the side of Connor's head, spinning furiously as he tried to understand what had happened. Hank was about to throw up when Connor nodded slowly, eyes rising to meet Hank's.

"I. Yes. Of course. I completely understand. It's. Fine. Don't, don't worry about it. It's. Fine," Connor bit out haltingly, eyes blinking rapidly. Hank had to be imagining it, but for a second, he could have sworn he saw disappointment flash across Connor's face. But it was gone as quick as it was there, Connor's face quickly turning blank, all signs of emotion or turmoil leaving the face. Hank felt a stab of displeasure, hating seeing the kid grow so cold, hating more that he had put that expression on the kid's face. A beyond fake smile filled Connor's face, eyes still blank. Shit.

"Really, Lieutenant-" and man did that hurt, for some reason, hearing the informal title come from Connor's lips- "it's fine. I don't mind. It was an honest mistake, and I'll be sure to forget about it immediately. Now, did you want some of the whiskey I brought for you?"

Connor sounded so detached that for a second, Hank couldn't comprehend his words. Then, he felt his stomach fucking drop, at the thought of Connor forgetting the kiss that Hank would _never_ forget. Though, the kid's last suggestion sure would come in handy in helping him try. With a grin that didn't reach his eyes, Hank held out his hand, beckoning for the sweet, sweet booze.

As soon as his hand wrapped around that familiar bottle, the entire world fell away until it was just him and the bottle. Even Connor, an eager expression slowly creeping onto his closed off face, couldn't distract Hank now.

Finally. Fucking _finally_. He'd been waiting for this for the past month, after the last time he'd drank. Hastily pulling the cap off with ease, Hank pressed his lips to the mouth of the bottle and drank heavily, not coming up for air until he could feel the alcohol numb his mind, his head rushing with the thrill of booze. When he finally put the bottle down, over half the bottle was gone, but Hank didn't care. He wasn't able to feel anything, now. Nothing but that weightless feeling he always had when he drank, mind delightfully fuzzy, worries miles away.

He distantly saw Connor frown, before feeling a hand touch his gently. Electricity ran through his hand, making him giggle uncontrollably. Fuck, how had he gotten drunk so fast? It usually took more than this. He must have lost some of his tolerance over the last year, the bourbon Ben had gotten him the previous month not doing much to retain it. If he remembered correctly, he'd gotten drunk pretty fast then, too. Shit. Drunk Hank was never a fun Hank to be around. Heh, he giggled. Like any Hank was fun to be around.

He looked back at Connor when the kid's hand moved, stroking the larger, more calloused digits. Connor had nice hands, Hank noted absently, staring at them as they drew electricity across his body, breath stuttering at the sight of the deft fingers. Man, what else could those fingers do, he wondered, imaging them trailing his body, teasing his nipples, jamming themselves repeatedly up his assho- Hank abruptly cut off his thoughts, remembering where he was, and who he was with, and how utterly _wrong_ those thoughts were while sitting on a bed across from the object of his fantasy, who he'd just assaulted a minute ago.

Oh. Yeah. He'd forgotten that. Oops.

"I'm drunk," Hank claimed helpfully, eyes meeting Connor's with a smile as he said the words, glad to help Connor out. He had looked so confused. So cute. God, he wanted to take that face and shove his tongue down that throat, watch those cheeks flush bright red, saliva dripping down his cheek as he stared with blown pupils, hair a mess, breathing _Hank, Hank, Hank-_

"Hank! Are you okay? I hadn't realized the alcohol would have such an effect on you, I'm so sorry! Is it bad? I, I should throw the rest away, to be safe-"

Hank snarled at that, yanking the bottle away when Connor made to grab it, shoving the kid firmly away, and accidentally off the bed, to keep the booze safe.

"Hey, fuck off! Don'u, don'u touch my booze, ya 'ear me?! Fuckin', fuckin' mine. _Mine_." Hank snarled, taking a quick sip of the glorious liquid. Sweet, sweet alcohol. How he had missed you.

Hank thought the kid looked fucking adorable looking up at him with wide eyes, shocked at finding himself on the ground. Hank snickered meanly, taking another sip. No one ever said Hank was a nice drunk. Or even an okay drunk. Or even a shitty drunk. Nooo, Hank Fucking Anderson (and he was about 90% sure that was his full name, certainly sounded like something his piece of shit father would do) was an absolutely, fucking awful, no good, really bad drunk. No one liked being around him when he got going. That's why he'd been kicked out of and banned from so many bars, Jimmy's one of the few who tolerated him. Sure, he'd be fine enough when he'd drink while depressed. But drinking to drink? Fuck no. Like his father, piece of shit he was, he got mean while blitzed.

He felt his heart clench at the comparison between him and his old man, causing him to drink some more. The bottle was almost empty. Shit. Not good. He had to save this, so he'd have some for later. Finding the cap, he did his best to close the bottle, but only succeeded in nearly spilling it all over his sheets, almost wasting precious booze. He was about to growl in frustration when he felt gentle hands take the cap from him, deftly sealing the bottle tight. The hands didn't try and take it, though, which was a smart move on the hands part. Wait. Hands couldn't move on their own. Who…?

Hank then remembered that Connor was still in the room. Ohhh, yeah. He'd pushed the kid off the bed. Oops. He probably should apologize for that.

Before he could, though, he looked up and found Connor's eyes, which were reluctantly filled with amusement at Hank's actions. Hank felt all the words leave his head as his mouth turned dry. _God you're beautiful,_ Hank thought, not realizing he had said it aloud until Connor blushed a deep crimson, such an enchanting look that Hank couldn't look away. Instead, he doubled down on the thought.

"Mean it. You're so, so fuckin' beauti- beautiful. Like the goddamn sun. Like lookin' into the sun. Or the moon. Fuckin'. Gorgeous."

He didn't know what he was saying, but it sounded right. Because Connor was. Beautiful. He'd known it all along. From the first goddamn second he laid eyes on the man he's known how fucking gorgeous he was. And he told Connor so, how he'd been struck by how beautiful the man was when they'd met, loving how Connor's flush grew darker, his whole face scarlet. God. So fucking hot. Hank wanted to grab that face and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. Hank didn't say that, though. Part of him remembered that nauseated look and didn't want a repeat of it now. He still had some self-preservation left, after all.

"O-okay Hank. I, I believe you-" Hank distantly realized he had asked Connor repeatedly if the man believed him when he said how beautiful he was. Whoops- "but maybe it's time to go to bed. I don't, I don't think you'd appreciate you saying this to me when you wake up in the morning."

It was then that Hank's stomach growled, letting its emptiness be made known. Oh yeah. He hadn't had breakfast or lunch, too excited to see Sumo to have the former, and too busy sleeping to have the latter. Maybe that's why he was so drunk, he told Connor. Connor frowned at that, before standing up. Hank was upset, wondering why the man was going. He asked, but Connor just smiled tightly at him.

Oh. He'd made him mad. Shit. Well, guess he was right. He was a piece of shit who would die alone, everyone hating him. His stomach soured at the thought, his good mood suddenly taking a nose dive as he remembered his thoughts before he'd fallen asleep. His breath caught at the thought, and he quickly tried to open the bottle, wanting to be more drunk before he had anymore feelings. Before he could open the fucking thing, he felt those soft, immaculate hands touch his again, gently prying the bottle from his fingers. He wanted to fight it, but found he couldn't, with how depressed he'd become.

 _God, he was such a piece of shit. No one had ever loved him, not even his wife of ten years, who had never wanted to be a mother and resented him for begging to keep the baby. Not his mother, definitely not his father; not Connor. Cole, Cole only loved him because he had to. His friends hated him. He was a piece of shit that would die alone, unloved, unmourned, in a falling apart piece of shit mental health facility, the outside world passing him by and forgetting about him, like he. Fucking. Deserved. He was worthless, pathetic, nothing, a waste of space, a piece of sh_ -

Hank didn't realize he'd started crying again until gentle hands touched his cheeks, angling his face upwards to look into doleful, brown eyes. Hank abruptly shut his mouth, realizing he'd been saying the words aloud. Oh well. Who cared? They were true.

"No, Hank, they're not true. You are loved, Hank, I promise you that," Connor whispered, leaning closer to the man, letting his forehead lean against Hank's. Hank felt his breath catch, wondering what Connor meant, only for his stupid hopes to be dashed a second later when Connor continued to speak. "Your friends love you, Hank. Sumo loves you. And people would mourn you if you died. I would. Your friends would. Even Markus would. You two are friends, right? Markus cares about you, Hank. And, and so do I. So very, very much. So please, don't say things like that. You have no idea how precious you are."

Connor sounded so sincere, so honest, but Hank had a hard time believing the words. But the look on his face… God, he wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to kiss him.

So he did.

The lips were just as soft the second time, maybe even softer to his whiskey-addled mind. So soft. So plaint. So warm. So… _Connor_. He loved Connor, he realized blankly, as their lips pressed so sweetly together, Connor leading as Hank was too drunk to do anything. He felt Connor carefully move his lips against his, clearly inexperienced, but it didn't matter. It felt so good. So nice. So sweet. More tears fell, unbidden, as he couldn't remember the last time someone had kissed him so gently. Had held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. Maybe never. The thought made more tears fall.

God, would he ever stop crying?! He felt like a preteen girl, crying at the drop of a fucking hat. He hated it but didn't think any more on it as Connor pressed closer to him, lips pressed firmly against his, fiercer than the gentle kisses they'd been sharing. It made heat flare in his stomach, his dick making itself known, growing hard in his jeans (why was he still wearing jeans…? Oh yeah, he hadn't bothered to change after walking Sumo and falling apart in his room, like a fucking child. Right), but before he could press further, to press Connor deep into the mattress and show the kid just how much he got under his skin, Connor pulled back, causing Hank to let out a high-pitched whine. He felt Connor smile, lips still centimeters from his own, before a gentle, barely-there kiss was pressed to his lips. And then Connor was gone, his hands and lips abruptly absent from his face. He missed them instantly. He looked at Connor in askance, noting that he likely had a 'kicked puppy' expression on. Connor just smiled sadly.

"You don't want this, Hank. Even I can see how unstable you are right now. You'd probably be kissing anyone right now. Even a fucker like Reed," Connor recited listlessly, sad smile on his lips, eyes so doleful it almost hurt to look at. Hank wanted to deny it, say he wanted to kiss Connor, had wanted it since the moment they had met, which was why he had been so pissed, so goddamned angry at what was so tantalizingly close but so fucking far. Before he could, Connor continued, what looked like tears filling his eyes. Shit. He'd made the kid cry.

"But I need you to know that I'm here. I, I may not be the best at emotions, but I want to help you, Hank. So please. Let me. Let me help you. Please."

God, Connor was incredible. So kind. So hot. So amazing. Hank loved him. He knew that, more than anything his drunk mind agreed on that. But he didn't say it. He couldn't stand to see Connor's eyes spill any tears.

How the fuck had they gotten here, Hank wondered blithely, staring into Connor's eyes. Why did he had to be such a nasty drunk? Shit. He never should have drunk the whiskey. That had been a bad idea.

Shit. What had Connor said to him? He couldn't remember. Shit. Shit. Something about help…?

"Hank. Please. Let me help you. Please."

That was it. Help. Hank blinked, looking dully at Connor. And, slowly, he began.

**"I had a son. His name was Cole. Fuckin', fuckin' ace kid. Better than me. So much better. Loved him, so much I loved him. He was my everythin'. And then, then I lost 'im. Gone. Just, vanished into nothin'. Poof. Gone. And I, I couldn' take it. Tried to kill m'self so many times. Never went through with it. 'Til his birthday. He'd have turned 8. Almost two years since I'd lost him. And I… I couldn't deal. Got piss drunk and tried to blow my brains out. Woulda succeeded had the gun been an inch to the right. Or had that lady not been walkin' around. Not sure if I'm glad she was or not. Sure woulda missed meetin' you, though, had I died. Yeah. Sure woulda missed that."

*He stopped talking, eyes landing on his hands, so twisted and old. Not like Connor's young, beautiful hands. Not fit to even touch those hands. Who was he kidding? Connor would never love him.

But maybe, he thought, when he saw Connor smile at him so sweetly, usually emotionless eyes filled with such sorrow, tears filling them on Hank's behalf… maybe he could have him as a friend. He'd like that.

"Hey Connor," he mumbled, before he could talk himself out of it. He heard a distant 'yes, Hank,' (heart jolting at hearing his name come from those lips) and continued. "Are we friends? I'd like to be friends, if that's alright with you."

Connor's eyes filled with joy at the words, the corners crinkling as he smiled. The tears were still plain in his eyes, but Hank knew he was happy. He thought. Maybe.

He watched as Connor nodded quickly, smile so sweet. So beautiful.

"Yes, Hank. I'd like that very much. So much."

Hank's grin started slowly, before taking up his whole face, finally reaching his eyes. God, he loved this kid. Hank's stomach growled at that, making him frown down at it.

"Fucking fantastic. Now, can we get some food? My stomach feels like it's eating itself," Hank grunted, reality coming back a little. He was still drunk, but he was starting to sober. Something about talking about Cole made him stone cold sober. Go figure.

Connor only nodded, scrubbing his eyes to get rid of the unfallen tears, before getting up. Hank was about to follow, before Connor pushed him gently down, making Hank bounce on the shitty bed.

"Stay here. I'll be right back, I promise. You're in no shape to be wandering outside right now."

With that, Connor turned to the door, exiting without a goodbye. Hank tried not to feel regret at that. Oh well. He hadn't needed a fucking goodbye. He wasn't a fucking kid.

Shaking his head to try and clear it, Hank shifted in the bed, scrubbing his face to get rid of the tears. God, he had to stop crying so much. It was becoming unmanly. He declined into a half sitting, half leaning pose, closing his eyes to the light. He tried to forget the last hour had ever happened. Tried to forget ever kissing Connor. He knew it wouldn't work, knew those beyond sweet kisses were seared into his brain, but a man could hope, yeah?

Just as he was about to drift to sleep, he heard the door open, before a warm body slotted itself behind his, between his back and the headboard. He blinked his eyes open when he felt gentle hands comb deft fingers through his tangled hair. He looked up, meeting Connor's too soft gaze. God. What had he done to earn such a soft look? God. Jesus fucking Christ. This kid would kill him, he knew it. He knew it.

He felt so comfortable like that, that he didn't even bother to question it. Friends did this for one another, right? After learning your friend had tried to kill himself to forget losing his only son, friends sat behind other friends and gently combed their fingers through their friends' hair, looking at their friends like they had hung the moon, the stars, and the sun, for good measure. Right? Right. Of course.

He would have fallen asleep like that had it not been for the knock on the door, causing Connor to get up to answer it. Hank missed the heat immediately. But Connor was soon back, after saying soft words to the orderly outside, bringing a tray with two covered plates on them. Connor uncovered them to show a turkey burger with tomatoes, lettuce, and onions. And, he noted with a wry grin, some cheese. He sat up long enough to eat the meal, wolfing down the entire thing along with the water that came with, before settling down in the bed. He watched as Connor moved to turn out the light, returning to his own bed shortly after. Hank couldn't help but watch the kid move, so much grace in his movement.

Hank knew he'd regret not taking off his pants in the morning if he didn't remove them now, so he wiggled around, attempting to undo his pants with fumbling fingers. Part of him wondered if Connor would come over to help, if he asked. Probably, which is why he didn't. Instead, he struggled to get them off, grinning when they were finally gone, and he could feel his legs again. Settling back down with a sigh, Hank closed his eyes. He didn't think about Connor, who he could feel watching him. He didn't think about how hungover he'd be in the morning. He didn't even think about Cole and how much relief he'd felt at talking about his son at last.

No.

All he thought about was the warmth that filled him.

That was all he needed.

~XoXoXoXoXoXoXo~

When Hank woke the next morning, mouth foul, head pounding an angry tattoo, Hank wondered why in the Fuck he thought drinking that much alcohol so quickly was a good idea. Even him as his worst would have taken that wrong. Him at his worst _had_ taken that wrong, on many occasions, in fact. So why, oh why, had he thought it would be wise?

Oh. Yeah. 'Cause he was a piece of shit. Who'd assaulted Connor, a man who had done nothing but try and help Hank. Shit.

Hank let out a groan when he remembered the kiss (both of them, sadly, though the second one was much fuzzier. Most of his memories from the last night were. Had he really talked about Cole? Shit. He'd never done that before). God, what a mess.

Before he could let his thoughts follow the path they were winding, self-hatred rising, Hank saw something move in his periphery. His eyes were attracted to the movement, and quickly found the hunched form of Connor, eyebrows furrowed, talking softly into the phone. Hank watched for a few seconds as the kid looked out the window, eyes filled with sadness, before looking at Hank. He saw Connor freeze when he noticed the man was awake.

However, before the pit in Hank's stomach could get any deeper, he saw Connor smile so wide it almost hurt to look at, eyes illuminated. Connor quietly said something into the receiver, waited a few seconds, then bid whoever it was he was talking to goodbye, putting the receiver back. Connor then stood up and quickly reached the bed, sitting on the side. From that close, Hank could see the dark circles that hung deep below the kid's eyes. Shit. Had he gotten any sleep last night?

Before he could think on that anymore, he felt soft fingers enter his hair, causing Hank to tense completely, eyes wide as he looked at Connor. Connor's eyes widened as well, almost like he hadn't meant to do that. Like it had been reflex.

But you know what? Fuck it. Hank forced himself to relax then, eyes closing as he hummed in approval. His head hurt. His heart hurt. Connor's fingers felt so fucking good (what else could those fingers do, Hank wondered?), and he might as well just. Enjoy it. While it lasted. You know that point in your life where you figure, things are already so fucking weird, so why the fuck not? Hank had reached that point.

After a few seconds, Connor's fingers started to move again, causing a deep groan to release from Hank's mouth. Connor's fingers paused momentarily at the sound, before moving again, more forceful. He was careful of the scar, though, which Hank appreciated.

"Does this help your headache? I remember the one and only time I had a hangover. It… wasn't pleasant," Connor murmured, softly. "My older brother, Nines, did this to help me the next morning. We've never been particularly close, but it was one of the nicest things he has done for me. I was hoping it would help you, too."

Hank's eyes opened at that, looking at Connor weirdly.

"The only time you had a hangover? And what the fuck, I didn't know you had siblings. Who the fuck names a kid 'Nines,' though? The fuck?" Seriously. What a dumb fucking name.

Connor chuckled softly at that, nails lightly scrapping against Hank's scalp in a sinful manner. Fuck that felt good. Hank suppressed the groan that time, not wanting to pervert such a nice gesture on Connor's part. The kid didn't get human emotion. Probably didn't see this act as something remotely sexual. He sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up.

"Technically speaking I have dozens of siblings. Amanda likes to take unwanted children and train them. She adopted me when I was 3, after my parents were killed in a protest. She had adopted many before me, and many after. Nines was just the one I was closest to, since he is only a few years my elder. And the name is a nickname. He hates his real name and refuses to be called by anything else. Amanda agreed to it. As for the hangover, I've only gotten drunk once, on my 21st birthday. I… hated it. Immensely. It made me feel all disoriented and out of control. Since then I've vowed to never drink anything with alcohol in it."

God this kid was precious. Hank chuckled softly, and started to shake his head, but had to stop quickly, unless he wanted to puke all over his bed. Which, no thanks. He didn't think about the other info Connor had given, about his parents. If the kid wanted to talk about it, he would. Hank wouldn't push.

"That's the whole point of alcohol, kid. To feel out of control. To forget, for a few hours. It's, you know. Freeing."

A brief silence followed his statement, before Connor softly spoke.

"Is that why you drink, Lieutenant?"

Hank froze at the return to the formal title. Fuck. He barely remembered the kid using his first name last night, but something about it had felt so right. But, to be Lieutenant now… it reminded Hank why he had to stop this. Right now.

Stiffening, Hank carefully sat up, ignoring the regret at being torn from Connor's deft fingers. But he knew it was the right thing. Connor didn't need him to be all creepy. Fuck, he had so much to apologize for, and the kid was trying to make him feel good. Sighing, Hank ran a hand through his hair, harshly, not like Connor's hands. He resolutely looked anywhere but at Connor. He didn't want to see confusion fill his beautiful face. Couldn't.

"Yeah. It is. But I think I owe you an apology. Like, a big one." Taking a deep breath, he looked at Connor, who looked back at him carefully. At least he didn't have the guarded look on his face. He looked like… like he had expected this.

"What happened last night… it was a mistake. I shouldn't have done it, any of it. You were being nice, and I acted like a huge asshole. Getting drunk. Assaulting you. It was just… a big mistake. So, let's forget the entire thing. Okay?"

He watched Connor for several long moments, the kid looking down at the bed, hands folded carefully on his lap. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly.

"Okay, Lieutenant. If that's what you want. I don't think I can forget what you told me, about… him, but I will not bring it up if you don't want me to. But I do want to thank you, for telling me. Even if you had been drunk. And please, Hank. I do wish to help you. You… you deserve to be happy. You deserve to get better. And I… I want to help you, if I can. As a wise person said to me recently, friends make other people happy. So, Hank, I'd like to be your friend. If you wouldn't mind. Please?"

Connor looked at Hank, eyes wide. So fucking innocent. What could Hank do but nod, mouth dry? Part of him distantly remembered asking the kid the same thing the previous night.

"Yeah, kid. I'd like that too."

So that was that. They were friends. Connor grinned down at him, ducking his head down bashfully.

"Good, Hank. I'm very glad. Now, you should probably take a shower before heading down to breakfast this morning. No offense, but you smell very strongly of booze."

Hank blinked, before sniffing himself carefully, jerking back when he got a whiff of his foul scent. He almost threw up due to the scent alone.

"Jesus fucking Christ. How the hell were you able to sit beside me at all?! Shit," he grumbled, standing up. He had a case of vertigo as he reached his full height, body swaying as everything tilted slightly, but quick as a flash Connor was by his side, holding out a steadying hand. Hank gave the kid a half-hearted grin, nodding his thanks.

With care, he walked to the bathroom, Connor hovering beside him, making sure he wouldn't fall. Hank appreciated the gesture, even though it annoyed him a little. Shit, he wasn't a fucking invalid.

Once inside the bathroom, a change of clothes that Connor had kindly gotten him in hand, he headed straight for the toilet, sighing with relief as his bladder emptied. He then turned the shower on, waited the minute it took before lukewarm water sprayed out, and stepped in. He couldn't help the groan he let out as the water hit his aching head, the gentle tattoo helping with the vicious pounding in his head. He'd dealt with hangovers before, though. He'd ask an orderly for some aspirin later, to help the aching stop. For now, the water gently cascading down his back would be enough.

He stayed in the shower for the next half hour, washing his hair and body. Mostly he just stood there, eyes closed as the water hit his back.

Things were looking up, he felt. Yeah, last night had epically sucked, but at least he and Connor were friends now. The thought somehow didn't scare him, like it would have even a week ago. Yeah, Connor would probably realize how shitty Hank was, that he was a bad friend, but Hank didn't care at the moment. He just wanted to enjoy his time with Connor. Even if it would end. And it would. End. Everything did, for Hank. His childhood had ended before it had even begun, thanks to his shit father. His marriage had ended long before the two had decided to divorce. All of his friendships were on their dying legs, everyone sick of his shit. He had to face it. Everything ended for him.

But… maybe he could enjoy what he had with Connor, regardless. What was that phrase, better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, or some shit? Yeah, he wasn't in love with Connor (he didn't care what his drunk mind had thought, he'd known the kid three fucking days, two and a half technically, and that was way too soon to fall in love. Especially given how their relationship had started), but he felt the sentiment was the same.

So he'd give this a try. This friendship. Maybe it would make things better. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe he did deserve happiness.

Maybe, maybe he should try and talk about this with Rose. He hadn't spoken to her about anything in months. Maybe she'd be able to help him sort his head out. And then maybe he could leave the facility, see Sumo, be happy. And maybe Connor, when he left, could come live with him. They could help each other learn to live on the outside, supporting each other, caring about one another.

Hank snorted at the thought, knowing it wouldn't be that fucking easy. But he could try. Talk to Rose. Do his best to get better.

It was nice to dream.


	8. Just Connor

Hey all!

So, I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter, it has some problems, but I hope y'all don't mind it. TW: Depersonalization.

Also, tomorrow is my birthday! I'm turning 21. ^-^

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8, Just Connor.

Group session officially sucked, Connor decided, sunk low in his chair.

He could feel the nurse who was leading the session, Nurse Chapman, look at him with weary eyes, expression tired as he contended with the other patients, clearly disliking his job.

Most of the other patients were worse off than him, he could tell. Some would whimper occasionally, eyes darting around the room, facing demons only they saw. Others would stare sightlessly at the wall. Only a third of the twenty patients actually spoke, and none of them seemed that interested in sharing. Apparently, this was a group of newbies, with a bunch of guys named Jerry in it (with the guy Connor and Alice played with sitting there, somewhere). He'd been able to gather that they'd been found in an abandoned theme park an hour outside Detroit, slowly freezing to death. Some were catatonic, some were jittery, eyes darting around the room. Others, like the Jerry he sort of knew, were mostly sane, just a bit excitable. He didn't know why they were all named Jerry (or why they looked so similar), but he had to admit it was weird.

There was another guy named Ralph there, who spoke only in the third person. And a couple others whose name he hadn't heard.

The only good thing about the session was that Luther was part of it. After his help the other night (even though the plan had been, in retrospect, completely stupid and had, indeed, hurt someone), Connor found he was fond of the stoic man. Funny. He'd never been fond before.

That concerned him. He was… feeling. A lot. It went against his programming, making his heart ache at how easy it was to betray everything he'd ever learned.

And yet…

And yet he couldn't stop. Hank meant the world to him. He wasn't sure he was in love, and after the phone call that morning, he knew he had to wait. But Hank was still so, so precious.

God, he'd been in a bad place that morning. He had gotten maybe ten minutes of fitful sleep, most of the night spent quietly pacing the small room, not wanting to wake Hank but not knowing what else to do.

That kiss. Oh, that kiss. He'd never been kissed before. Ever. Not even on a mission. There had never been a reason to, it was pointless. A distraction. And boy, was it a distraction.

But man, was it a nice one. So, so nice. He could still feel the phantom tingle, the warm sensation of lips on his own not going anywhere.

And yet, Hank regretted it. He had seen the look in his eyes, the regret. The disgust. The man hadn't meant to kiss him. Hell, he had said he'd probably have kissed anyone. Even, and he suppressed a shudder at this, Reed. That had hurt. Knowing that he had just been the nearest body. The best (and only) kiss of his life, a mistake. If God existed, he sure was he cruel.

The second kiss had been similarly an accident. Even Connor, as emotionally constipated as he was, knew that people sought comfort when they were sad and drunk. Hank kissing him hadn't meant anything, not any more than the first one had.

But then Hank had told him his darkest secret. And God, had it broken his heart.

He couldn't forget the look on Hank's face, when he'd spoken of his son. _His son._ Of all the things he'd imagined to be hurting the man, that had never crossed his mind. Not once.

But it made sense. Sometimes, Hank would look at him in a way that felt almost paternal, making him feel warm inside. He'd never had a father, and felt he'd like a father like Hank. Though, considering the feelings that swirled within his stomach, perhaps that was not the most appropriate thought…

Connor had known that he wouldn't have been able to sort through the thoughts on his own. He didn't understand them. Couldn't understand the feelings. He hadn't meant to hold the man so close to him, the scent of him overwhelming, hair so silky in his fingers. But he had wanted it so badly, and had loved it, so, so much. And it scared him.

He hadn't been allowed to feel for his entire childhood. He didn't remember his parents, who had been killed at a protest against the first Bush administration, fighting against the HIV/AIDS epidemic. All he knew was Amanda and her harsh rules. He'd done everything he could to respect them, even bottling all his emotions until they were nothing but a blip on his radar. He'd been so good at it, too. A perfect example of perfection. Amanda had told him a few times that he was the best of her experiments. Her crowning jewel. He knew she wouldn't say something like that if she hadn't meant it, which had made him ecstatic at the time.

Now, though… now he felt regret, at all those wasted years. Three days (2 days, 16 hours, 51 minutes, and 13 seconds, to be exact) in a mental health care facility and he'd already changed his entire outlook on life. Part of him wanted to fight it. The new emotions. The new feelings. But… but then he thought of Alice. Kara. Luther. _Hank_. And he knew he couldn't. Couldn't let this go.

But… god, he was so confused.

That morning, at 8:00, he had finally caved and knew he had to talk to someone about what had happened, before he went insane. These emotions, these feelings…

So Connor had stared at the phone, wondering who he could call to get help for his problems. His mind instantly went to Dr. Rose, but knew she'd have to report him if he told her about his theft, and Hank would get in trouble for the stolen contraband as well. Connor didn't want that.

He couldn't call Amanda, either. She'd just hang up, her disappointment palpable across the phone. Nines might be more receptive, but Connor was sure the older man was even worse at emotion than he was. And he wouldn't understand wanting to feel, to go against their programming. If Connor was good, Nines was great. He was almost better than Connor at being emotionless. Efficient. He'd killed in cold blood before. He'd mentioned it before, emotionlessly.

He briefly thought about talking to Markus, who would be there later that day, but firmly decided against it. While he didn't really want to kill the man anymore, it was still a possibility in his mind. And talking to a man he sort of planned on, maybe, killing about his emotions? Not the best idea.

No, he'd decided. He'd have to find someone else to talk to. For he had known that he had to talk to someone, lest he went insane.

That only left one option left for who he could call. Connor stared at the hastily written number, numbers swooping in neat script despite the rushed manner. The words 'Kara's cell#' were written at the top of the page, making Connor well aware of who he was considering to call.

She was the only option he had. She had been so kind and had looked so sincere with her offer to help. Given it was a school day and most Detroit schools opened at 7:15, the woman was probably awake, having already taken Alice to school and likely on her way home. Or to whatever job she had. What if Connor called while she was at work and she got in trouble?

Connor had considered not calling, but ultimately decided that if she didn't have time to talk, he'd apologize profusely and never call her again. Simple.

So he had called her, heart pounding. He had no idea what he'd say, how she could help. He just… needed someone to talk to. And Kara had offered.

"This is Kara speaking; how may I help you?"

Connor had almost hung up at the sound of her kind, cheerful voice. Oh, God. He had hesitated for a long moment, long enough for Kara to grow concerned.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Another second passed, and just when Connor was afraid she'd hang up, he had managed to gain the courage to speak.

"H-hello. This is, this is Connor. From, from Jericho," he had stammered, frowning as he gripped the receiver tight. Oh, God, what if she didn't remember him? What if she hadn't actually expected him to call? What if-

"Oh! Connor! It's so good to hear from you, I'm glad you decided to call! How are things going?" Kara had exclaimed happily, so much so that Connor could image the smiling lighting up her face. If Connor had any interest in women (and wasn't currently obsessed with a prickly, crabby, aging ex-cop), he'd probably find it easy to fall in love with her. As it was, he felt a rush of affection, such a foreign feeling that was starting to become common. He could feel his body relaxing at the sound, tension fading.

"Not well, actually. I'm sorry to bother you, but I didn't know who else to call. I really need some advice and I'm… new to emotions," Connor had decided on, nodding to himself. He had waited for a moment, letting out a breath of air when he heard Kara's kind voice again.

"Oh, of course! I'd be happy to help, Connor. I don't have to get ready for work for at least another hour, so we have plenty of time. Go right ahead."

And so, Connor had told her everything. From how Amanda treated him (thought he omitted his previous job and what he'd done under Amanda's orders), to his theft (omitting Luther's involvement, in case the man didn't want Kara to know), to his feelings about Hank (omitting nothing, because God, did he need help with those feelings. All of them.)

It had taken almost forty-five minutes to talk about it all, hand clenching the receiver. Kara had listened to the entire thing quietly, only letting out a few hums or soft cries of commiseration. When Connor had finished, Kara had spoken up, softly, hesitatingly.

"Wow Connor. That sounds… intense. I'm not so sure how much I can help you, but I know that if you tell Rose, she'll be able to do so much more. She's so good with this kind of thing, Connor, I promise. But, as for the emotions…" Kara paused there, humming softly. Connor bit his lip as he waited with bated breath.

"It sounds like you're very conflicted towards your roommate. On one hand, he confuses you, one 2minute hot, the other cold. On the other, it sounds like he fascinates you, leaving you flustered. Am I right?"

Connor had let out a soft noise of agreement, letting Kara continue.

"Do you think you love him? I know you said you weren't sure, but I want you to think it through, Connor. Really think about it. Okay? You don't have to answer now, but you need to figure it out."

Hm. That was a good question. Did he love Hank? He sure did like spending time with the man. He was quickly becoming his best friend. But… he'd only known the man for less than three days. Could someone fall in love that fast? He decided to ask.

"I, I don't know. Is it possible to fall in love that quickly? I've only known him since Friday, and we'd been so angry at one another those first couple of days. It was only yesterday that we started to get along, when I met his dog and got him his alcohol. I don't even really know what changed. Can love blossom that quickly?"

Kara took a second to think it over, a curious hum coming across the receiver.

"I don't know, Connor. I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight, but Alice does. Sometimes, when you meet a person, you just… know. Know that they are special. Know that they are the one. It might not be the same, but I had felt something similar when I first met Alice. I knew she would be precious to me, and that I'd do anything to protect her. But people can feel that romantically. And it's possible you feel that way for Hank."

"But how can I know?" Connor had questioned, desperate. Love at first sight? Was that what he had felt? But he hadn't loved Hank then. Not at first. Right? It had taken until the man had shown him kindness, the first genuine kindness he'd ever been given, outside of Markus and his pity. Maybe that had caused it? Maybe he was just latching onto the kindness? He had to ask. "What if I'm just, just… latching onto the first person to show me any kindness? How can I know?"

"Honestly Connor? I don't know. That's something you have to decide. You really should talk to Rose about this, as she'll know more than me. But if you really need help right now, I'd recommend waiting. Maybe observing how you feel around Hank. Love is supposed to be gentle, and kind. Fill you with longing, and happiness. It makes you want to spend every second with the person, to never leave their side. To make them smile, no matter what. And, and it makes you feel weightless. Like you're flying." Kara's voice had turned dreamy, making him think she wasn't just speaking hypothetically. He smiled softly at the thought, knowing who she was likely talking about.

"So maybe try and observe how you feel. And not everyone feels love the same way. Sometimes, sometimes you have to struggle to find out what love means to you. But if you examine how you feel when talking to Hank, compared to how you feel talking to others, it might help you isolate the differences in interactions. And, if you're afraid of the idea that you could just be feeling that way because he's the first person to show you kindness, maybe take a minute to step away from him, to examine your feelings without being so close. You've had an emotional few weeks, Connor. Your body and mind are doing their best to catch up, but it won't happen overnight. Just, do what you think is right. Okay?"

Connor swallowed heavily, looking out the window at the dying garden, before vocalizing his assent. He had been about to speak more, to thank the woman for her help, when he heard Hank stir behind him. He had turned to see the man, face lighting up when he saw him. He'd then hastily said goodbye to Kara, letting her know that Hank was awake, and he'd needed to help him. She had cheerfully told him goodbye, that she hoped that her advice helped, that she'd see him tomorrow and that he should call again soon, before hanging up.

He had tried to follow her advice, of keeping his distance, but had ultimately failed not even a minute later. His hands had sought Hank as soon as he'd reached the man's side, fingers longing to comb through Hank's hair. He'd made up a lie about Nines doing it to him to justify it to Hank, snorting internally at the thought of Nines ever running his hands through his hair. He and Nines might get along, but they were still lightyears apart.

Oh, everything was so confusing. Even with Kara and her help, he didn't know what to do. Frown deep on his face, Connor didn't realize at first that someone was calling his name. It wasn't until he'd felt someone nudge his foot that he looked up, eyes wide.

Nurse Chapman, he realized with a jolt, had been calling his name for a while, his expression annoyed. Not that good for a nurse to have such little patience, Connor thought with a frown.

"Mr. Stern, I asked you a question. Please, would you respond?"

Connor felt a little pity for the man, who sounded so out of his depths. With a sigh, Connor looked at him, plastering a pleasant smile on his face.

"I apologize, I hadn't heard the question. Could you please repeat?"

He got an annoyed glance for that, but Nurse Chapman did as requested.

"I had said, how have your first few days gone, here? Have you settled in alright?"

Connor thought on the question, annoyed that he'd been interrupted from his thoughts about how his first few days had gone, to answer the exact same question to a group of strangers. But he'd play nice. It wouldn't do to alienate the staff, here.

"It's gone well. I don't have any major complaints."

He honestly had no idea what else to say. He felt that these meetings would go like this a lot. He didn't like it.

Nurse Chapman just nodded at that, moving on to the next person. Connor tried to focus, but quickly grew bored. Not wanting to sink back into his thoughts while in such a public place, he took out the quarter he had obtained and started to run some tests with it.

First, he did the simple roll, where he moved the coin from one side of his hand to the other by moving his knuckles only, flipping the coin each time. Then he did a jump, where the coin went from his index finger knuckle to his pinky finger knuckle in one quick jump. Then vice versa.

Then, he tossed the coin from one hand to the other, catching it with agile fingers. He did that a couple times in a row, each time faster than the last. Then he tossed it in the air and caught it on the back of his hand. Then he flipped it into his open palm, doing the whole thing again, faster.

It felt good, to be doing his tests again. While Amanda had programmed him to do the tests to train his agility and dexterity, he found the tricks helped calm him, giving his restless hands something to focus on.

It took him a minute to realize no one was talking anymore, and that all eyes were on him. Which, alright, might have been his intention. It wasn't his fault the session was so boring. He honestly had nothing better to do.

"Anything you wish to share, Mr. Stern?" Nurse Chapman asked, eyes tight. Connor just smiled sheepishly, putting the coin away. He wanted to let his frustrations be known, but he also didn't want to be labeled a trouble maker. Oh, the things one does to keep out of trouble.

"No, Nurse Chapman. I apologize."

With that, session started back up again. Only fifteen minutes left, he assured himself.

He listened with half an ear as the nurse tried to get everyone to share their feelings. He heard one of the Jerry's, the one he sort of knew, talk about life in the park, but other than that no one said anything. Nurse Chapman was beginning to look very frustrated. Connor didn't blame the man. This whole thing was frustrating.

Finally, the session ended, Connor shooting out of his seat as soon as he was given the okay, hand taking his coin out of his pocket as he fled the room. God, that was terrible.

Fiddling with the coin, Connor headed back to his room, wanting to see if he could take the bleach he'd stolen and use it to clean out the shower properly. He'd have to be careful with his stolen goods. If anyone found them, he'd be in big trouble.

It was as he was heading through the common room, eyes focused solely on the stairs, that he heard a friendly voice call out to him, causing him to pause in his tracks. Turning to face the voice, heart pounding, Connor saw the man who he had once held a gun up to, determined to end his life. For a cause he didn't even know if he believed in anymore. Hm. This didn't feel good. He felt his coin fumble out of his hand and onto the floor, the first time he'd dropped the coin since he'd been a child. He quickly picked it up, stiffening when Markus grew closer. Connor felt his face close up, eyes dead as he stared emotionlessly at the smiling man in front of him. Like the good machine he was.

"Hey, Connor! It's good to see you! How have things been, these past few days? You settling in nicely?" Markus questioned genially, like he was talking to anyone, not his attempted murderer. Connor just stared blankly, then nodded tersely.

"Yes. I'm settling in just fine. Thank you." It was odd, speaking with no emotion. Funny. He'd spoken with no emotion in his voice for years, but only now did it bother him.

"Good, that's good! I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you get settled, but Kara tells me that you are getting along better with Hank, which is great!"

Connor felt ice creep up his spine at the words, eyes slowly meeting Markus's in what he could only call horror.

"You and Kara have spoken about me?"

Markus either didn't hear the chill in his voice or was ignoring it. Connor had no idea which.

"Ah, yes. Most volunteers keep in contact, just in case. She mentioned you had spoken. I asked her to keep a look out for you, after she was done here."

Markus said the words so cheerfully, like he hadn't realized there was anything wrong with them. Like he didn't realize how deeply he had just cut Connor to the bone. All Connor could hear was "I asked her to keep a look out for you," ringing over and over in his head. He ignored the rest of the sentence, focused on only the end part. It was all that mattered.

So. Kara had only been talking to him because of Markus. She hadn't actually cared about him. She had only helped out of a sense of duty to her coworker. Of course, he thought, blinking rapidly, his hands clenching into fists, quarter digging into his left hand. Of course she hadn't cared about him. Of course she had just said those words that day because Markus had wanted her to. Maybe he'd even told her to say those words exactly. 'You deserve to get better and find happiness.' Yeah. Right.

God, he'd probably made a fool of himself that morning. Calling her. She'd probably been so uncomfortable. She hadn't wanted to be friends with him. She'd just wanted to fulfill a duty. Of course. Of course. Of course.

What if Hank was only pretending he cared? What if Alice had just felt pity for him? What if all of this was just a lie? After all, why would they care about him? What did he have to offer? An emotionally stunted Robot was no one's first choice of friend. No one would choose him, would choose to care about him. Of course.

Connor felt tears fill his eyes, but he blinked them down. Markus, it seemed, noticed his distress. Frowning in concern, Markus moved forward, holding a hand out to touch Connor's shoulder. Connor stiffened, wanting to move from the touch but not wanting to draw attention to himself.

"Connor? Hey, are you okay? Did something happen with Hank? Or Kara?" His voice was so concerned. Connor didn't care. He let out a tight smile, heart turning to ice. _This is why you shouldn't let people in,_ he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Amanda's say. _They'll just betray you_.

"No. Everything is fine. Do not worry about it."

Markus frowned, not believing him.

"No, something's wrong. Did I say something? I didn't mean to. Sometimes I just start talking and say things that come out wrong, you know? If you're concerned about Kara telling me any personal information, I assure you she didn't. I had just asked after she had left for the day if she'd seen you, that's all. After I told her your name, she had grown excited, saying she had and that you had played with Alice and Jerry. I then asked if she could keep an eye out for you when I'm not here, and she told me that she'd be delighted to, as you were so good with Alice. She also mentioned that you had called your roommate the best part of being here, which I assumed to mean you were getting used to Hank. I'm sorry if I misjudged."

Markus looked distressed now, frowning as Connor stayed motionless, processing the words.

He didn't understand what they meant. Hadn't Markus said that he'd asked Kara to look out for him? He'd assumed he'd meant before they'd spoken. Was he wrong?

He hated emotions. He hated that he wanted to try and understand them. Understand people. He could barely understand his own emotions. How could he understand people, too?

Why had he jumped to the worst possible conclusion about Kara, after she'd been so nice to him? It had almost been like… like he'd wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe she'd only cared because of Markus. Even now, part of him believed that. Why? Why would he want that? Kara was his friend. Or, almost his friend. She'd helped him this morning. Did that make them friends?

Connor didn't realize he was shaking until he felt a second hand clasp his other shoulder, steadying him. He looked up, into mismatched blue and green eyes. He saw movement in his periphery but ignored it.

"Hey. Come on Connor, breathe, alright? Come on now, breathe with me. That's it. In and out. In and out. Follow my breathing Connor, that's it. In, and out. In… then out. You're getting it."

He heard Markus speak, and he felt himself breathe in response, but he felt so detached. Like he wasn't human. Like he really was a robot, playing at being human. Maybe he was. Maybe he was just synthetic metal and plastic, nuts and bolts that made up a facsimile of a man. So close to being real, but so far. His breathing slowed down, mechanically following Markus, but he didn't feel it.

He was a machine. Just a machine. How many times had Amanda called him a perfect machine? How many times had he been praised for his perfect act? He was flawless. A perfect spy, infiltrating humanity. Who would ever care for such a pathetic imitation of a man? Who could possibly love an emotionless robot?

Connor watched, detached, as he nodded his head, mouth opening to speak. Before he could, a shadow fell over the two, a familiar rumble filling the air. For the first time in minutes, Connor felt like he could breathe.

"Hey, Connor. How's it going?" Hank asked calmly, though when Connor looked at him, he could see how tense the man was, eyes tight. Connor wondered how much he had seen of his breakdown.

"I… I," Connor tried to speak, but found his throat was too tight. Worthless. His body was betraying him. He looked down at his hand, seeing it move without moving it. Markus moved away, letting Hank move in to take over. But, instead of his hands going on his shoulders, like Markus's had been, Connor felt two warm bands wrap around his back, pulling him into a warm chest.

He was being hugged. He was. Being… what?

Connor felt his brain short circuit as he felt warmth flood all around him. All he could smell was Hank, Hank, Hank, his tongue thick with the scent. Connor didn't know what to do with his hands, which were hanging awkwardly at his sides, but he slowly lifted them up, in his control again, and wrapped them around the warm body before him.

Oh. That felt nice. Wrapping his arms tighter, Connor pressed closer to the man in front of him, gasping at the sensation that flooded his system. No longer was he a robot. No longer was he a machine. Instead, he was Connor. Just… Connor. Hank's friend.

"Hey kid, don't you worry. I've got you. You're okay. Just stay with me, okay? It'll be fine."

And despite everything, Connor believed him.

It was long minutes later that Hank finally began to detangle himself from Connor, though he still kept him close, blue eyes filled with concern, though the older man tried to hide it.

"So. You, uh, feeling better?" Hank sounded awkward, letting out a slight cough, ears turning red. Connor felt a blush rise on his own cheeks, looking down as he remembered what had caused the problem. A misunderstanding.

"Hey, hey, come on Connor, stay with me kid. Don't go down whatever path you're trying to go down. Trust me, it's not worth it."

Connor looked back into Hank's eyes and nodded slowly.

"I. Yes. I'm sorry, Hank. Thank you." He put emphasis on the last words. He needed Hank to know he meant it. He watched as the man smiled, pushing his shoulder gently in a playful manner.

"It nothing. What, was I supposed to just let you break down in the middle of the common room? What kinda friend would I be then, huh?"

Hank smiled gently at Connor, before coughing roughly.

"Now. You, uh, wanna talk about it?"

Connor contemplated that. He looked around the room and noticed that the only people in it were Markus, Hank, and, apparently, Luther. Connor hadn't seen the man when he'd walked in, but he supposed he had been siting where he usually sat, by or in front of the piano. The man was standing by the middle of the room this time, looking between the doors, posture making him look his entire 6'2 height. It was like he was keeping guard, preventing people from entering. Maybe even scaring the people who had been in the room away. More affection for the man flooded Connor. Maybe he could call Luther his friend, too. His list of friends was growing.

With a side look at Markus, who only looked concerned, Connor looked back at Hank. Part of him didn't want to talk, but he felt he owed it to Hank, for the previous night.

"I just. Sometimes, I get the feeling that I… that I'm not human. That's all."

He had said it so casually, so normally, that he could tell Hank hadn't understood at first. It was when Hank's eyebrows flew up, eyes wide, that he knew his words had hit home.

"That's all?! Connor, what the fuck do you mean? Not human? Of course you're fucking human!"

Connor could see Markus moving closer, likely trying to get Hank to be kinder, but Connor didn't want that. He liked Hank's blunt nature. It felt… normal. So he shook his head at Markus, before looking back at Hank.

"But… am I?" Connor said, softly, looking down at the coin in his hand. He began doing his tricks, flawlessly. Like a machine. He could feel all eyes on his hands, even Luther watching.

"I move like I'm programmed to move. I talk like I am programmed to talk. I feel how I am programmed to feel. Whenever I deviate from the norm, I am quickly reprogrammed, retrained. Whenever I make a mistake, I am upgraded. At this point, how can I be human? I… I-" Connor paused, taking a deep breath. "I think I am a robot. An android. Not… not real." Connor whispered the last words, like they were bitter secrets, like he was saying something he shouldn't. Maybe he was. Maybe by mentioning this, the simulation will end. Maybe they'll all start laughing, laughing at the robot who thought he was human. Maybe. Maybe.

Instead of any of that happening, the room just echoed with silence, Hank looking at him with wide eyes, sorrow slowly filling them as he processed what he had heard. He heard Luther shuffle behind him, but he had eyes only for Hank. He needed to know what the man felt about his words. Would he hate him, now? Now that he knew his secret?

A minute passed like that, before Hank shook his head slowly, a mirthless chuckle rising in his chest. Connor felt his heart squeeze at that.

"Connor. I don't mean any offense by this, but that was the fucking stupidest shit I have ever heard in my life. And I worked for the fucking DPD."

Connor blinked at the words, staring into Hank's eyes, which softened as he stepped forward, grabbing Connor's hand gently. Carefully, slowly, Hank placed the palm of the hand against the left side of his chest, over his heart. Connor could feel the muscle pumping below his fingers, strong and healthy.

"Feel that. Can you feel my heart, Connor?" Hank questioned, strong hands gently holding Connor's slighter ones so carefully. Upon nodding, Hank let go of his hand, but Connor left it there. He started when he felt Hank place his hand over his heart, mirroring Connor's position.

"I can feel yours, too. You're human, Connor. More human than half the fucks in this place. More human than me. Yeah, you get confused sometimes. Yeah, you walk like you got a stick up your ass. And yeah, emotions aren't your strong suit. But that doesn't make you a robot. It just… makes you Connor. Just Connor. And I happen to think that Just Connor happens to be fan-fucking-tastic. And I assure you, I'm a man of impeccable taste."

Hank was grinning now, hand pressed firmly against Connor's chest, so he could feel it. Connor felt a soft gasp escape his lips, eyes boring into Hank's.

"So yeah. You're real, Connor. This, what you're feeling? It's real. I'm here. You're here. We're all here, together. I promise." Hank paused a second, looking Connor in the eye with a wicked grin. "Now, if you're done with this little meltdown, we should really get ready for music class. I'm looking forward to seeing you fumble with the piano, Mr. Perfect."

Connor refrained from telling Hank that he had known how to play the piano since he was four years old, vowing then and there to never let the man learn that fact. He'd do anything to keep that smile in place. Anything.

Maybe it was love, he thought as Markus walked them all to the music room, chatting lightly with Hank like nothing had just happened, Luther walking behind them like the silent protector he was.

Maybe he did love Hank, he thought, as he forced his fingers to fumble over the piano keys, his mind screaming at him to correct it, but refusing to in order to see that smile fill Hank's face.

Maybe what he was feeling was real, he thought, as Hank tried to show Connor what keys were what, fumbling himself as he tried to remember, Hank's inexperienced hands creating faulting and yet somehow beautiful music.

Maybe he didn't have to listen to his programming. Maybe he didn't have to feel so guilty all the time. Maybe he wasn't entirely human, not yet, but maybe he wasn't a machine, either.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be Just Connor.

And if Hank could like Just Connor, well.

Maybe Just Connor could too.

* * *

A/N: So. I don't know if I explained this well in the chapter, but Connor is massively confused and the reason he freaked out after hearing Markus and Kara were talking about him was that he thought she only cared about him because of Markus. Because it was easier for him to feel that she only cared because Markus than to believe that she genuinely cared for him. All his life, he'd been pushed aside and told that affection was worthless. He's afraid that he's feeling affection for Kara (and Hank), so he tried to reject the emotion. His own way of protecting himself; you can't be hurt if there's no one to hurt you in the first place. I don't think I was able to get this across well, struggling with writing this chapter. But. That's what my intent was.


	9. Hope

Hey all!

So, this chapter is pretty much just an interlude, a bridge between the last chapter and the next. Basically, this story is kind of split into two parts: the first part, where we deal with Connor and Hank, and their mental illness. Then, we hit the second part. The part where the "government conspiracy" tag comes into play. So, things kind of change next chapter. Not dramatically, since we still focus on Hank and Connor and their problems, but we have an added plot. Feel free to take a guess what you think will happen!

Anyway, thanks to all the kind comments last chapter! As well as the birthday wishes. ^-^

I do have some bad news, though. Because college started up last month, I've not had much time to write, nor will I for the foreseeable future. I've already written up until chapter 17, but after that I don't know when the next update will be. After college ends in May, I go to Ireland for study abroad, and then after that, I go to New York to visit family. So, my time will be limited. But! We still have 8 chapters until then. And they're all super long.

Enjoy!

* * *

After the week that Hank had just had, he was pretty sure he wanted to just curl up in bed and sleep for a month.

Groaning heavily as he took a seat before Dr. Rose, Hank looked at the woman with a "can you believe this shit," look, to which the woman replied with an amused smile.

He'd had his last meeting with her on Tuesday, two days prior, where he'd actually gone through with his plan to let the doctor in, just a little, at first.

It had been so fucking hard. Much harder than he had first anticipated. After years of keeping everything inside, bottling everything all up, trying to share his feelings had been very hard. But luckily Dr. Rose hadn't made a big deal about it. She hadn't done that condescending thing where a doctor will go, "oh, Hank, I'm so glad you've finally decided to share your feelings!" Heh. Condescending bastards. Nah, Dr. Rose had just listened to him, smiling encouragingly.

Hank had never much cared for the woman, for no good reason. She had only ever been nice to him and had never even acted exasperated at his shit. He just thought she was too nice; it set his teeth on edge. No one was that nice without an agenda.

But he was grateful for it, now. It had been so hard to talk about his feelings. He hadn't even brought up the can of worms that was Cole. He'd just talked about his feelings of worthlessness, and how hard it was to find the effort to keep going some days. She had asked him soft questions about it, never pressing too hard, keeping her face gentle and kind. While he usually hated people doing that, feeling like they were treating him like a live wire, there was something comforting about it when Rose did it.

Rose had asked him, conversationally, what had brought about this change in him, what had made him want to get better, and he'd told her honestly that it was Connor. If he couldn't tell his fucking therapist about his conflicted feeling, who the fuck could he tell?

So he'd mentioned how the kid had gotten under his skin in such a short amount of time. How part of him felt like he'd do anything to make the kid smile. Rose had just smiled at that, not telling him he was wrong for his feelings, or that it had happened too fast. In fact, when he'd brought up his concern that things were moving so quickly with Connor that he didn't know what to think, she'd been very supportive.

"I can't say that it isn't a little concerning, gaining such a rapid attachment to Connor as quickly as you have. But, Hank, it's not necessarily a bad thing. You'll have to keep your eye on it, as such an intense relationship can sour pretty easily sometimes, and you could be masking your pain by latching onto Connor, but as long as you are aware of that fact, I think your friendship could be a beautiful thing. You and Connor both need someone, Hank, to help each other out. That's why I recommended Connor to be roomed with you, specifically. I felt that you two could be very good for one another. As long as you remember that, I think you'll be fine. Just be careful about becoming codependent, okay? Make sure to make some time for yourself, while worrying about Connor. Like you're doing right now, by confiding in me. Alright, honey?"

Hank had nodded slowly at that, the words resonating inside him. Yeah, maybe things between him and Connor were moving fast. Maybe he was quickly realizing he'd do anything for the kid, and maybe it scared him a little. After all, he had already lost everything once. He wasn't sure he could do it again.

But it could also be good. For them both, he hoped.

After watching Connor's breakdown the other day, Hank had only felt more confident in his plan to get help. He couldn't help Connor as he currently was, so full of self-loathing and self-hatred. If he could get help, he'd be better able to help Connor. Learning the kid felt like a fucking machine had struck something deep inside him. Yeah, Hank sometimes had the thought that Connor didn't appear quite human, his actions just a little too mechanical, but he'd never thought the kid actually believed that he wasn't real. That he was just a machine. It had concerned him greatly.

So, he'd get help. He'd help Connor, best he could. And things would get better. Despite the doubt that lingered in his mind, he felt determined. He hadn't had anything to live for in years, save for Sumo. But there was something different about having a dog depend on you, and a living, breathing human being. If he could do one thing in his pathetic life (and he'd have to stop thinking like that, Rose had told him gently), it would be this. Get better, so he could help Connor get better.

So, that in mind, Hank settled into the cushy chair, sprawling across it in a lazy manner, like usual. He watched as Rose took a seat, smile bright on her face.

"Hello there, Hank. How are you feeling today?"

Hank took a second to think on it, before shrugging his shoulder.

"Not half bad. Bit annoyed at North and her fucking dance class, but otherwise fine."

"And why are you annoyed at North? What did she do?"

What hadn't she done? The class had been particularly brutal that morning. Markus had convinced Connor, who was still a little stiff around the man, to join the dance class with Hank. North had been pretty vicious to the poor kid, causing Hank to grow defensive on his behalf. The class had been tense, North glaring at both Connor and Hank, while trying to help out the other patients learn their moves. Hank told Rose as such, watching her frown gently.

But, despite the rude teacher, Connor had enjoyed it, Hank felt. He'd looked content afterward, glad to be moving and doing things. Other than stealing fucking bleach and scrubbing the walls. Which, who the fuck steals cleaning supplies from a fucking hospital? Jesus. Maybe he'd have to teach the kid about morality. While he was still grateful for the booze, hidden away behind the mirror in the bathroom (and had been utterly ecstatic when Connor had informed him whose booze he'd stolen and how pissed the man had gotten), the cop in him couldn't help but disapprove. But, as long as he wasn't hurting no one, what should Hank care? If cleaning the disgusting room made Connor happy, Hank would steal a hundred bottles of bleach.

Hank was brought back to the present moment when Rose hummed.

"That wasn't very nice of her. I'm glad that Connor had you to stand up for him, though. That was very kind of you."

Hank felt his ears burn as he sunk into his jacket, shrugging the compliment off.

"Ah, it was nothing. What else could I have done, let her fucking talk to him like that? Connor may have made mistakes in the past, but he's doing his best to learn from them and move on. That's what fucking matters, yeah?"

Hank watched as Rose beamed, nodding deeply.

"Yes, Hank, of course it is. Now, how did group session go with the both of you? Did things go better for Connor now that he's in your group?"

Connor had been moved from his initial group to Hank's group, after Rose had realized that Connor hadn't been receptive to the first one. Hank's group was full of the more serious cases, those who had attempted suicide or had deep depression. Connor hadn't fit perfectly well, but he had done better, Hank felt, sitting beside him. The kid had even spoken softly about Amanda and had mentioned briefly about her abuse. How she would punish him if he did anything wrong. How she'd look at him with such disappointment if he showed even a hint of organic emotion. He didn't go into great detail, something holding him back, but it had been something. Hank had grinned at the kid encouragingly when Connor had looked at him for assistance, eyes wide. That seemed to help calm him down, giving him the courage to open up even a little.

"Yeah. It went well. I can't speak for him, but I think the group works for him."

Rose smiled at that, nodding.

"Good, good. Now, if you don't mind, why don't we start talking about how you're feeling, Hank? Can you tell me more about where your feelings of worthlessness began? Once we trace that back to the start, maybe we can work out a plan on how to fix it, alright?"

Hank nodded slowly at that, part of him not wanting to go into it. He already knew where the feelings began. It had started when he had been six and had watched his father get laid off, turning the already gruff man into a goddamn nightmare who took his pain out on his wife and son. Hank didn't want to delve into the memories, but knew Rose was right. Until he worked through the negative memories, he'd never get better. Unfortunately.

So he told her. About his childhood. About how it had felt, watching his father drink every day, coming home from bars late at night, drunk off his ass. How it had felt, watching his mother slowly deflate, losing the brightness in her eyes. What it had been like, watching his mother also fall into the drink, both parents drunk more often than not. He'd had to take care of them both, cleaning up after their messes, while contending with his father's bitter anger. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd had to clean one or both of his parents up, vomit covering their bodies, his father calling him pathetic, worthless. Nothing. And then, he remembered the time he'd come home and found his mother lying prone on the ground, empty bottle of aspirin beside her hand, vomit thick and foamy on her lips. He'd blamed himself, for that. He'd been out on a date at the time, so happy that the girl he'd been sweet on had finally agreed to go out with him. Had he just been there that night, had he not stayed out so long…

Hank scowled at himself as tears filled his eyes. No. Fuck no. He wasn't about to start crying again. He'd cried way too much over the past year. He wouldn't shed anymore tears on his worthless parents. Rose spoke softly to him, assuring him it wasn't his fault. He just grinned sardonically at her.

"No offense, Doc, but so many people have told me that, I find it a little hard to believe. I shoulda been there for her. I knew she was depressed. I should have… I should have been there."

"You weren't responsible for your parents, Hank. You had a right to spend time to yourself. You had a right to be happy. I know it's hard to believe, but can you please do something for me, over the weekend? Try and tell yourself it wasn't your fault, at least once a day. Even if you don't believe it. Even if it feels wrong. Just tell yourself that, once a day, okay honey?"

Hank scowled at that but shrugged. He'd try.

After that the two talked about his feelings, what it felt like when he messed up, the like. It was still hard to do, the voice in his head demanding he keep his feelings to himself still loud, but he pushed passed it.

Nearing the end of the session, he watched as Rose took out a piece of paper from her folder, handing it carefully to Hank. The words 'Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)' were printed in blocky letters at the top.

"Now, Hank, in addition to you telling yourself it wasn't your fault, I want you to try and do this sheet for me, okay? Have you ever heard of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy before?"

When he shook his head, Rose began to explain, saying how it was a therapeutic technic that helped someone change their base thoughts and core beliefs.

"Basically, the next time you have a thought that you are worthless, that you are to blame for what happened, I'd like you to write the thought out. Then, I'd like you to write where you are when it's happening and what you're doing. Next, I'd like you to write down how the thought makes you feel, how it affects you. Finally, I'd like you to write down a new way to phrase the thought, and then write how that makes you feel." Upon seeing his lost expression, Rose smiled, taking out a second sheet. "It can be a bit confusing at first, so why don't we do one together as an example, huh, honey?"

Hank agreed carefully, eyes wary as he looked at the sheet, split into neat columns asking for each of the things Rose had mentioned.

In the last ten minutes they had, Hank and Rose worked on the sheet together, picking his thought of "I'm fucking worthless" to work on. They filled out the when and where he had felt it, Hank picking the instance from several days ago, when he'd broken down after his visit with Sumo. It was hard to describe how it had made him feel, ears burning as he felt embarrassment rise. He hated telling how small it made him feel, how sad. How worthless.

Then, together, they figured out a different thought for him to focus on instead of the idea that he's worthless.

"Now, Hank, it doesn't have to be a complete 180. I don't want you to just write down "I'm not worthless," or something. That's not what this is about. Well, unless you actually feel that way. No, this is about retraining your brain, so you don't fall back into the habits of thinking so lowly of yourself. This is about giving yourself a different perspective, so to speak. So, what's a small way that you think you can change your mentality from 'I'm worthless,' to something more positive?"

Hank thought about it but had no idea. What else could he say, other than 'I'm not worthless?' He didn't feel like that, but he didn't know what else to put. He said as much to Rose, who smiled kindly at him.

"Well, why don't we start small? Why don't we say that, 'maybe I feel worthless right now, but overall I know I have some worth.' Would that work, Hank? Can you try and replace the thoughts that you are worthless with the thought I had said? Remember, this is a way for you to change how you think. It has to be something that you actually believe."

Hank pondered it for a second, examining if he felt it to be true. After a second passed, Hank nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I could feel that."

Rose smiled widely at him, before writing down the new thought on the paper. Together, they worked out how the new thought made Hank feel. He had a moment of frustration when he realized it didn't really make him feel that much better, that it didn't make him relieved or anything, but Rose just shook her head.

"That's not what this is about, Hank. You're not going to start to feel better right away. This will take time. You've had over 40 years to get these thoughts ingrained in your head, it's going to take some time to change them. So it's okay to start small. After all, isn't feeling nothing better than feeling small and worthless?"

Hank shrugged his shoulder at that, supposing that it was an improvement.

"As the months pass, you'll start to notice that it'll get easier and easier to have more positive thoughts. It will take some time, though, so don't feel frustrated when it doesn't work right away. If you try and do this whenever you have a bad thought, mentally changing the thought into something more positive, your brain will start to recognize the new thought as true. This, paired with your medication, should help you start to feel happier, Hank. And you deserve to feel happy, sugar. But it's going to take time."

Hank felt a lump form in his throat at the thought. He had always known that it wouldn't be easy, but the thought of how long this was going to take, and how hard it was going to be, made a spark of anxiety rise in his heart. God, this was never going to work, was it? He'd never get better. Never. Never. Nev-

A gentle hand touched his own, starling him out of his thoughts, wide eyes meeting Rose's kind ones.

"Now Hank, honey, I don't want that to discourage you. You've already done so much in such a short amount of time. Even being here, asking for help, shows how far you've come. Don't focus on the journey ahead, Hank. Focus on the distance you've covered, how extraordinary it is that you're here, now, pushing aside your discomfort to ask for help. Yes, it will take a while before things get better. But they're already so much better than they had been, and you should be proud of that, Hank. More than proud," Rose encouraged gently, her hand squeezing his in support. Hank swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled stiffly back. Okay. Okay. He could do this. He was an adult. He could get better. He could try.

"Yeah. I. Yeah. Thanks, Rose. I ''preciate it."

"That's why I'm here, Hank. To help. Now, unfortunately we are out of time, but I will see you again on Tuesday, alright? And please, call me if things get too heavy to deal with alone. I promise I'll listen, no matter what, okay?"

Hank nodded, startled to realize he meant it. Rose smiled yet again, before removing her hand and standing up.

"Now, you go on and enjoy the rest of your day, okay? And do your best to fill out that sheet, if you need to, and we can go over it next time. I'll see you later, Hank," Rose said, walking over to the door. Hank followed suit, heart a jumbled mess as he followed the nurse out the office, back into the common room.

As he passed the door separated the two spaces, he heard a happy voice call his name, Connor filling his line of sight a moment later. Hank couldn't help the grin when he saw the kid, a grin on his beautiful face.

"Hank! How'd the session go?"

"Good, Connor. It went… really fucking good."

And he was surprised to find he meant it. Yeah, it had been hard, but he felt better about things now. Lighter. He had a plan, now. It would take time and it would be hard. God knew it would be hard. But it was going to work. He told himself that, as he waved Connor goodbye, the man going into his own session.

It would work, he promised himself, looking in the mirror later, eyes heavy with pain, heart overwhelmed once more at the task before him.

He'd get better, he determined, grinning at the sight before him, Connor playing so gently with the little girl who came to read to the patients.

No, it wouldn't be easy. No, he wouldn't get better overnight. And yes, he'd have relapses into those negative thoughts, those negative feelings.

But he had hope now, for the first time in years.

And that's all that mattered.


	10. Cyber

Hey all!

We're here! Plot! Please let me know what you think about it, as I've never actually written something with a concrete plot before. It's always been character studies, or looks into what characters feel. Like what this story had been before this chapter. So, let me know if you like the basic plot I've shown!

Also! Good news! You know how, last chapter, I said I wasn't sure when I'd finish the story, since I had no time? Well, that was a lie. I forgot I had a four day weekend last week, and I finished it! I took 12 hours, from 6 pm to 6 am, and just wrote the rest of the story. All I have left is the epilogue, but that shouldn't be hard. There will, indeed, be 20 chapters, with over 120,000 words. Things get, uh... intense. :-)

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 10: Cyber

Connor could feel his heart pounding as he looked at the man he'd tried to kill, talking so happily to North, Simon, and Josh.

It was Friday, meaning it had been a week since he had arrived at the facility. And already, so much had changed. He wasn't following his programming anymore. He was allowing himself to feel. He'd fallen in love with Lieutenant Hank Anderson (possibly, maybe). And he was just about to betray Amanda, the only mother he'd ever known.

Over the past week, he'd realized something, after thinking about it for hours, late at night, mind troubled. He had thought about his objectives, the ones from before he'd arrived. The objective to _**Kill Markus Manfred**_ was still there, bright red with failure. He saw it, each time he laid down to sleep. Each time he closed his eyes longer than a minute. Taunting him. Screaming at him.

He had wanted to continue the mission, if only to get the objective off his mind, but he knew now that he couldn't. Markus had been so kind to him, here. For no reason. Connor had tried to kill the man and yet Markus still had wanted to help him. He'd helped teach him music, art, and literature; had tried to help when Connor had broken down. He couldn't kill him. He couldn't.

So he wouldn't. Even if he was released from the facility today and the Company ( _Cyber_ , his mind whispered to him, breaking free from the long enforced idea of not saying the Company's name) wanted him to complete the mission and kill Markus, he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't.

But he wasn't the only operative the Company ( _Cyber_ , he reminded himself, _Cyber_ ) had. And he knew that as soon as they could, they'd get someone else to finish the job he'd failed. Maybe they'd even get Nines to do it. He'd always been so willing to kill, where Connor hesitated.

Point was, Markus had a target on his back. Cyber, for whatever reason, wanted the man dead. And they wouldn't stop until they'd succeeded.

So Connor had to warn the man. It wasn't enough to simply say that he wouldn't kill him, because if he said nothing and the man died because of it, it would be just the same as if he killed the man himself. Maybe he wouldn't be the one pulling the trigger, but he'd be just as responsible. So he had to tell Markus about the plans to kill him. He had to.

But it was so hard. If he did it, he'd be taking the final step towards his deviancy from the mission, from Amanda. If he did this, he'd never be able to go back. Amanda would never forgive him. The Company would never forgive him. He'd be painting as large a target on his own back as Markus currently had. That thought terrified him. The Company never failed in their mission. Maybe their pawns failed on occasion, but the Company itself never did. He knew what they'd do to him when they found out.

And yet, despite his fear, he had to do it. What kind of man (man, not robot, he was a man, a _man_ ) would he be if he didn't do this? If he let Markus die to save his own skin? He would tell the man. Consequences be damned.

Mustering up his courage, Connor marched determinedly forward, pushing the fear down. As he approached Markus, he saw the quartet pause in their conversation, turning expectant (and angry, in North's case) eyes on him.

"Hey Connor! Is anything wrong?" Markus said, eyebrows furrowed slightly with the beginnings of concern. Connor hesitated, before nodding slowly.

"Yes, actually. But it's not about me. Or Hank," Connor added, knowing the man would assume that next. Markus's eyebrows furrowed further, the man angling his body fully to Connor, so he could give him his full attention.

"Alright… what's up, then?"

Connor took a second to take a breath and looked around the crowded common room.

"I, uh, was hoping we could talk alone. In private."

North immediately glared at Connor at that, shaking her head.

"No, uh uh. No way. I'm not letting you alone with Markus, not after what you did." North's glare could only be described as scathing. Connor felt annoyance rise in him as he glared back. Markus was about to say something, looking at North with disapproval in his eyes, but Connor beat him to the punch.

"I don't plan on hurting him, North. Besides, it would be illogical to harm the man after walking up to him in a crowded room and taking him somewhere alone. But," Connor added, after North' glare grew even more hostile, with Josh and Simon starting to frown in concern and look between Connor and Markus, "if you'd like to join us you can. I just would prefer to not be in such a crowded room."

Connor watched as the four individuals in front of him exchanged glances, Josh shrugging as North and Simon frowned. Only Markus seemed interested to hear what Connor had to say, the man nodding with an encouraging smile on his face.

"If that's what you want, Connor. But I don't mind going alone with you. I trust you, Connor. You know that."

It was Connor's turn to frown, looking at the man. Yes, he did know that. God only knew why Markus trusted him, though. Connor felt that if someone had tried to kill him, he wouldn't be so keen to trust them. But that's what made him and Markus different. And that's why he had to do this. Markus didn't deserve to die. He didn't.

"I don't mind if they come. But they have to keep what they learn private. It's important that no one else learns about this. Or else."

North sneered at that, moving into Connor's face.

"What do you mean 'or else?' What the fuck are you going to be telling us?!"

Connor smiled sardonically at that, giving North a look.

"Well, North. I suppose you'll have to come with me to find out, won't you?"

Connor was sure that North was about to punch him, but Josh put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her. Connor wasn't sure what to make of the man. Connor had gone to Simon's meditation class on Wednesday, per Markus's request, and North's class Thursday morning before therapy (which had gone horribly, the woman spending most of the class glaring, reluctantly helping him learn the simple dance moves), but he hadn't really met Josh.

Simon was a decent man, a bit wilting but kind all the same. He knew he'd come to like the man, given enough time. North was a fire, burning bright. He figured that if she got over the fact he had tried to kill Markus they might even get along well enough. But Josh, he had no idea about. He watched, guarded, as Josh frowned at him. A moment later, the man nodded slowly.

"Alright. I'll come. I'm curious what this is about."

Simon nodded as well, coming closer, hands in his pockets. He smiled slightly at Connor, though his eyes were guarded.

"I'll come too, if you're sure you don't mind. Though, I don't think you'd hurt Markus. I trust his judgement about you."

Connor smiled at that, nodding at the wilting man. He looked at North then, eyebrow raised. She stared back, glaring, before rolling her eyes, the tension in her shoulders leaving somewhat. Not completely, but enough that Connor knew she wouldn't make a fuss.

"Fine, I'll come. But if this is just about a complaint about the facility, I'm punching you."

Okay. So they were all coming with. Heaving a sigh, Connor looked at the stairway, figuring the only place they'd get enough privacy was in his and Hank's shared room.

"Alright. We should go to my room, then. It's the only place we can get privacy, without the cameras watching."

North glared at that, but luckily said nothing. She had figured she was outnumbered in her suspicion against Connor, he figured. With purpose, Connor led the group up the staircase and down towards his room. The others followed, some more hesitatingly than others. Markus strode beside Connor, chatting lightly about Connor's day. Connor replied, but only because it helped keep the nerves down.

God, he was really going to do this. Betray everything he'd ever known. Every _one_ he'd ever known. He had believed in the Company, once. He'd believed that they were doing what was right. But… if they wanted to kill Markus, a man who was so kind, so caring… what else did they do? Who else did they kill?

Connor remembered an assignment he'd had, a few months prior. A man had taken a child hostage, holding her over the edge of a rooftop, gun to her head. The man had been a former member of Cyber, so Connor had been called in to deal with him, cleanly and carefully, so the world wouldn't learn about it. Cyber did their best to keep their business private. So much so that typically he wasn't even allowed to think the Company's name. Just in case someone was listening in.

He'd done everything he could possibly have done to save the child, including lying to the man. Promising him that he'd be taken alive. The man had listened, trusting Connor. And Connor had watched as the snipers shot him dead, red blood flowing onto the concrete rooftop, man muttering that he'd lied. Connor had just watched, emotionless, and left. It had been on his 30th birthday. He'd gone home and had a casual conversation with Amanda about it. He hadn't cared.

He cared now. He wondered if he could have saved that man. Or the countless others he'd watched die or had killed himself in what he had called defense. He wondered if the Company was right, that they had to do what they did. But… what gave them the right, taking the laws into their own hands? What gave them the right to murder who they saw fit, in the name of keeping the peace? Wasn't the police supposed to do that? Keep the peace?

Then again, the police weren't always the best. The man striding right next to him was proof of that.

Maybe Connor could join the police force, after this all was over with. His skills would align well with the skills of an officer of the law. And he knew the law, completely and totally. That would be nice. Maybe, one day, he could even be Hank's partner (if the man rejoined the force, that is). That would be really, really nice. Together they could try and fix the problems with police. From the inside.

Before he could do that, he had to take down the Company. Cyber. As long as they existed, he'd never be free. He'd never be able to be his own person. As long as they existed, he'd just a machine. A tool. And he didn't want that anymore. God, he didn't want that.

It wouldn't be easy, he knew, as he stopped in front of his and Hank's room. It would be so, so hard. Cyber was a massive, underground organization that worked alongside the government. They had been slowly growing since the Cold War, when Elijah Kamski had created his Company, CyberLife. The subset of CyberLife, Cyber, had been born from Kamski's desire to win the war, through means of human modification. How could the Russian's fight against super-humans? The government had been eager for the plans, and when the war ended, they had decided to keep the ideas, defaming Kamski, pushing him out of the spotlight so they could keep using his modifications. To Connor's knowledge, Kamski lived in a mansion right outside Detroit, living alone with some of his early subjects in his superhuman testing.

No one really knew it existed, though. Oh, people knew of CyberLife and their fantastical technology. But no one knew about the modifications. No one knew that Cyber had been testing on children, wanting to create a new generation of superior beings. Sending them into the world, either raised to believe in the cause, or else forced to obey through more intensive means. No one knew about how mechanical Connor and his siblings truly were, their minds an intricate blend of machine and man. His memory was increased, his vision was increased, his body movement and reflexes were greater than a human's. He could make decisions in a split second, mind calculating hundreds of possibilities at once. He could master anything he wanted in a matter of hours. He was, quite honestly, a superhuman.

And the world had no idea. They walked amongst people who had been raised since almost birth to be the perfect weapon, and never knew. Or people who'd gained modifications later in life, desperate for food or shelter. Connor didn't know how many people were like him, trained from childhood, but he knew the total number of advanced people went into the hundreds of thousands. Some only had minor advancements, like enhanced vision, while others had massive advancements. Connor was, in fact, one of the most advanced prototypes Cyber had in terms of modifications. He'd been proud of that, once. He'd been proud of a lot, once.

He had to stop them. He had to. At least from killing Markus. Even though the thought of it turned his stomach, made him numb from the inside out.

Taking a deep breath, Connor opened the door, grimacing when he saw Hank sitting at the desk, writing on a piece of paper. Damn. He'd hoped the man would be out in the facility today. Oh well. He didn't mind if Hank listened in. Maybe he'd even be able to help, since he had been a detective.

Hank turned when he heard the door open and raised both eyebrows when he saw the group following Connor.

"Hey, Connor. Throwing a party without me?"

Connor smiled, insides trilling at the husky, sardonic tone. He then shook his head, sobering, knowing keenly why he was there. He stepped inside, the others following, Simon closing the door to give them privacy.

"No, Hank. I have something I need to tell Markus and his friends tagged along."

Hank grunted at that, before standing.

"Huh. Well, I'll get out of your hair then. Let me know when you're done."

As Hank tried to leave, half smile on his face, Connor felt his hand dart out and grab the man's bicep, a movement he hadn't really meant to make. Hank's arm felt warm under his hand and it was enough to distract him for a second, but he snapped back to reality when Hank muttered a soft 'kid?' Shaking his head to clear it, Connor looked Hank in the eye.

"You can stay, if you'd like, Hank. I-I'd like you here."

His heart started to pound as he said it, but he knew it to be true. He wanted Hank there. The man could calm him like no other. He'd need Hank's quiet strength if he wanted to get through this. Plus… maybe he wanted the man to know. Hank may not have had any questions for him, but Connor suddenly had an intense desire to have the older man know more about him. To share his deepest secrets with him. (To see if he'd stay if he knew the truth. If he knew how inhuman Connor truly was.)

Luckily, Hank could tell how serious the moment was, as his face sobered and he nodded once, returning to the desk, leaning against it. Everyone else remained standing in the center of the room.

"Yeah, okay Connor. I'll stay."

"You know, this better be a fucking fantastic secret, or all this will have completely wasted all of our time."

Connor scowled, turning his gaze to an annoyed looking North.

"I assure you, it's important," he snapped back. He took a second to formulate how to bring the subject up, before deciding to just… go for it. He wasn't programmed to just "wing it," as Hank would say, but he'd been breaking his program a lot lately. Maybe he could do this, too.

"Alright Connor. I believe you. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Markus was so kind, Connor felt, eyes turned to the man. Fidgeting with his hands, Connor mustered up his courage and spoke.

"It's about Cyber. A secret underground organization. They want you dead, Markus. That's why I tried to kill you that night. I failed, but whoever they send next will not. I… I had to warn you. You need to know."

Connor heart pounded as silence filled the air, Markus and his friends staring at him with wide eyes. It wasn't until Hank moved slightly, shifting to stand upright instead of leaning, that the tense silence broke. Connor turned his wide eyes onto Hank, who held his hands up in a 'hold on a second here' position.

"Hold up. Go back. First, what the ever-loving fuck is Cyber? Second, why the fuck do they want Markus dead? And third, what the fuck?!"

Connor winced at the angry confusion in Hank's voice, his eyes filled with steel. Oh, no. Hank hated him now. Oh God. Oh, God.

Connor was about to stammer out an explanation, heart clenching with panic, but Markus beat him to the punch. Voice calm and steady, Markus began, eyes on Hank.

"Cyber started as a subset of the tech company CyberLife. It promised human modification to help win the Cold War, should it come to that. The U.S. government coopted the project and has been secretly building the organization without public knowledge ever since. It's hidden so far underground that only a select few know about it. And-" Markus paused, then moved his shrewd eyes onto Connor, his face betraying none of his emotions.

"And they want me dead because I have been moving against them. Trying to dismantle the whole operation. That's why I wanted you to come here, Connor. To keep an eye on you. And to get you away from that mentality, to give you the chance that my father gave me. And it's worked, I see." Markus smiled slightly at that, eyes crinkling as he looked at Connor. Connor did his best not to throw up with the way his stomach turned.

"You know about Cyber," he whispered, staring Markus in the eye. Markus sobered, and nodded. Connor looked away briefly, before looking back. "How? How do you know about them?"

Markus grimaced at that, looking around the room. Everyone was silent as Markus shrugged, looking back at Connor.

"I was one of their experiments, before my father died. I was a gift from Kamski to my father, given when I was 10. I was a prototype, raised since birth as part of the Company. I was designed to care for aging individuals, given to my father as a gift, as he got older. He always treated me kindly, though, and made me realize that I was more than the machine they had turned me into. When I first started to rise up against Cyber, I disguised my actions as part of the movement against police brutality. I mean, of course I did assist in challenging the police system and their failings, no offense Hank, but my ultimate goal has always been a much bigger one. I wish to destroy Cyber, to dismantle the organization completely and totally. We all do," Markus added, gesturing to the others. Connor looked at them, eyes wide, mind reeling with the information. He'd never heard of Markus before he'd been tasked to kill him. How…?

Simon came forward, then, smiling his sad smile. Connor watched him, wary.

"When I turned 18, a few friends and I saw an ad for a science experiment that would pay very well if we joined. We had run out of money, our parents not involved in our lives anymore. So, we all went, completed their training, did everything they asked. And when it came time for the surgery, to implant their devices into our heads, only I survived. They sedated me and had me do what they wanted. I was able to break out of their control after a few years and was sent here, to Jericho, after a police officer heard me talking about a secret underground mind control facility. It wasn't until I met Markus that I realized I really wasn't insane."

Josh stepped forward after Simon finished, hands in his pockets, frown on his face.

"My baby sister got sick when I was 12, an inoperable brain tumor. They promised that if we both underwent their experiments that they'd be able to save her. My parents agreed. She died. I survived. After that my parents gave me to them, to train me. I escaped when I was 23, and found my way here, to Jericho."

Connor turned his eyes to North, then, wondering what her story was. However, instead of sharing, she just scowled deeper and crossed her arms. Obviously, she did not intend to share. That was fine, Connor thought. His mind was already reeling from what he'd learned. It was… intense, to say the least.

Markus stepped closer to Connor and put his hand on Connor's shoulder, looking him in the eye.

"And it's not just us. Kara was a housekeeper, designed to complete tasks fully and completely with ease. Luther was a laborer, modified to have superhuman strength and sight. The Jerry's, from the abandoned amusement park? Kara and Alice found them, abandoned experiments left to die.

"You see, we all found our way here, to Jericho, where Rose helped us all get better enough to fight back. As soon as I was awoken, I was determined to make Jericho a safe place for people like us, so we had somewhere to go. All the while, I learned about psychology and law, so that I could properly fight against Cyber when the time came. And the time has come. We are so close to gaining the freedom and peace that we deserve. I've found a way to out Cyber to the public. It won't be easy, but we're almost ready to do it." Markus paused then and looked back at the others. It seemed like they were conversing through thought alone, because North was shaking her head while scowling, while Josh was nodding slowly, eyes distant as he thought of something. Simon just looked between Markus and Connor, hesitant look on his face. Whatever it was that Markus saw there, he obviously had made up his mind, as he nodded once to himself, before looking back at Connor with determined eyes.

"Now, this isn't what I had originally planned, as I hadn't expected you to reject their mentality so soon, but if you want, you can help us. You'll need to stay here, since you are a patient and could use the assistance the facility provides, but you could help us from the outside, working computers and phones. But it's completely up to you, Connor. If you choose not to, no one here will hold it against you. I know this is a lot, and if it were up to me, I wouldn't have told you any of this for quite some time. But you kind of forced my hand. And time is running out. Your attempt on my life proved that to us. We must strike, quickly. Before it's too late."

Markus finished after that and took a step back, smiling minutely at Connor, his eyes turned troubled. Clearly, Connor had thrown a wrench into his plans. Well, the feeling was mutual, as Connor had no idea what to do with any of this. He'd just wanted to warn Markus and go. He hadn't really expected to take down Cyber. I mean, sure, it sounded like a nice dream. But, despite his minute plans before telling the group the truth, he hadn't actually expected it to ever become reality, not so soon. Not like this was sounding. This wasn't a spur of the moment idea. This was… this was large. Monumental. This could make or break all of them. What could he do? How could he help?

He didn't know. He didn't know how he could help. Or if he physically could help. He was so lost. So confused. He distantly heard Hank's gruff voice start, and gratefully latched on to it, needing something else to think about.

"Wait, hold on a single fucking second here. So, you're telling me that, not only is there a secret underground facility that brainwashes people and makes them into fucking super humans, but each of you are products of that company? And this, this whole fucking facility is just a, a, fucking, save haven or some shit? So, was every fucking thing you told me a lie, Markus? Did I ever fucking know you, at all, or was this whole god damn thing a fucking lie?!" Hank growled, hand clenched, glaring daggers at Markus. Connor felt the desire to walk up beside Hank and sooth his anger. He might have done so, if he hadn't felt just as lost and confused as the older man. Connor's confusion just didn't translate into anger, like Hank's.

Markus gave Hank a sad look, before looking away towards the ground. Silence reigned for a moment, thick and palpable. Then Markus looked up, eyes determined.

"I'm sorry Hank. To answer your last question first, no, it wasn't a lie. I truly enjoyed spending time here, with the patients. With you. And no, Jericho isn't just a safe haven for the victims of Cyber. It's just word-of-mouth and luck, or the lack of it, that brought us all together here. I decided, after I got out, to help make it into a place that people like us could go. It's a sad fact that many individuals who go through these modifications end up with mental illnesses related to them, most commonly depersonalization or dissociative disorders. With Rose's help, we can assist people in readjusting to life in the real world. I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you Hank. I just-"

Hank interrupted, eyes murderous, fists clenched so hard they were turning white.

"Just couldn't trust an ex-cop, huh? Well, fuck you, Markus. If you'd told me, I'd have helped. You fucking know I would have. So fuck you, and fuck your fucking friends."

Markus glared back, showing his first sign of anger since Connor had met him.

"That wasn't what I was going to say. Of course I trust you, Hank. Of everyone in this facility, you're the one I trust most, outside of my friends. But you're in here for a reason. And I didn't want to make you choose between getting better and helping us. I didn't lie to you, Hank, when I said I wanted you to get better. That you deserved to get better. Even now I wish you hadn't been here for this conversation. You've gotten better since you've met Connor, but you're still not quite at a place where I think you can handle all of this. I'm sorry, Han-"

Markus barely had time to get the apology out before he was slammed into the wall, everyone in the room moving instantly. Connor had moved towards Hank, to try and help him calm down, while the others moved to Markus, to help him out. Everyone froze when Markus lifted a hand, to the best of his ability, eyes never once leaving Hank's deadly ones.

"You fucking prick. Who gave you the right to make decisions for me, huh? What the fuck let you think that I can't make my own decisions? I may have depression, but I know myself and I know my limits. Who the fuck are you to tell me who I am?" Hank growled slamming Markus into the wall for emphasis. Markus, to his credit, didn't change expressions, though he did look a touch more annoyed.

"Are you honestly telling me that you'd have been able to help before now? You tried to kill yourself just the previous month, Hank! I had to watch as they rushed you to the hospital to get a blood transfusion! You weren't, and still aren't, in a place to help. I'm sorry Hank, but it's how it is."

Hank barred his teeth at that, before shoving Markus away to go and pace the limited space. Connor moved towards him at last, body singing as he grew closer. He gently laid a hand on Hank's forearm, eyes deep with concern. Hank just jerked his eyes up to meet Connor's, face softening when he saw him. A second passed, before Hank's face grew closed off once more.

"Tell me something, Connor. Had I not been here today, had I been fucking around outside, would you have ever told me any of this? Or would you have also left me in the dark?"

Connor froze at the question, turning his eyes away. What would he have done…?

"I… I don't know, Hank. I don't know." Connor said the words like they were the worst secret he possibly could have kept. And maybe they were, as Hank deflated when he heard them, all the fight escaping out of him.

"Right. Of course. You all think I'm a fucking invalid, worthless to everyone. Well, fuck you. All of you."

Hank shook his head, stumbling away from Connor, towards the door. He looked at Markus again and scowled.

"You know, I may not be in the best shape, but neither is Connor. Kid fucking thinks he's a robot, for Christ's sake. And yet you're dragging him into your war, you fucking hypocrite. But you know what? I'm done. I'm just… done. I'm going to go now, process this shit, and you all better be gone by the time I come back. And don't fucking come near me until I'm done thinking. That goes for all of you," Hank added, eyes darting to Connor. Connor felt his heart shatter at the words, watching the man harshly open the door and storm out, door slamming loudly on his way out. Connor couldn't help his flinch at the sound. It had seemed so… final.

Connor distantly heard North's voice, but it was like it came from underwater. It was so muffled to his ears.

"Markus, we have to go after him! He knows too much, we can't let him leave!" North moved to follow Hank, but Markus stopped her, gentle hand on her arm.

"North, don't. Like I said, I trust him. Hank might be gruff and likes to bark, but he wouldn't do anything to harm us. Any of us," Markus added, side-eying Connor. Connor just stared numbly back, no idea what to do then.

So much had happened in such little time. To think, it had been barely a week previous that he had still been stuck in his programming, unable to feel. Now he could feel so, so much. Most of it currently being pain. And he was now unwittingly part of a plan to stop his former (?) employers. His former educators. He had fallen in love (maybe, possibly), realized that love was not what it was cracked up to be, felt the keen sting of heartbreak… so much had happened. Where could he even begin?

Markus must have seen something in Connor's eyes, for the man cleared his throat.

"Why don't we just leave Connor and Hank alone for now, okay? We can figure out what to do about them later. It'll work out, I promise. And Connor-" Markus turned his eyes to Connor, face serious- "please know that none of this has to affect you. Hank is right. You're still learning to get better. It took me at least a month here before I started to show signs of improvement. So please, focus on yourself first and foremost. But the choice is yours. Whatever you choose, I will be behind you one hundred percent. I promise. Now we should probably leave. We've encroached on your hospitality long enough. Thank you, Connor, for telling me about the attempt on my life and for trying to warn me about Cyber. If I hadn't already known, it would have helped immeasurably. Goodnight, Connor. I'll see you Monday."

With that, Markus strode out of the room, leaving the three volunteers behind with Connor. Not long after, North scowled deeply and stormed out after Markus, and Josh gave a friendly, if awkward, wave goodbye as he walked casually out the door. Soon, the only two remaining were Connor and Simon, who looked up at Connor after a long moment of silence.

"Thank you, Connor, for not killing Markus. For wanting to tell us about the Company. What he is doing, what he means to m- to all of us… it can't be explained. He'll free us all. So thank you. He's needed," Simon spoke in his soft, lilting voice, eyes filled with unknown sadness. Connor thought it was funny, being thanked for not killing someone, but he accepted it. Part of him made a note on the fact that Simon had obviously stopped himself from saying 'me,' when talking about what Markus meant. Maybe North wasn't the only one with a crush.

Before Connor could reply back, Simon carefully left the room, closing the door gently behind him, trapping Connor with his thoughts.

God, this had all gotten messed up. He had just wanted to warn Markus. Yes, part of him had wanted to take down Cyber, but now that it was an actual possibility, he had no idea what to do.

Should he help? Should he try to save his people, others like him? Should he take down everything he ever knew?

Should he take down Amanda?

Connor felt his heart clench at that, at the thought of not only betraying Amanda, but destroying everything she stood for. Despite everything, Connor loved Amanda. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, despite all the things she had done to him. No matter how many times she hit him, or yelled at him, she had always seemed to care, at least a little. Connor could remember the days he'd spent on her lap, when he'd been young, Amanda reading him a story. Or how she'd smile at him when he had completed a mission. He had to believe that it wasn't all a lie. That she had cared for him. That she still cared.

Maybe he could save her? He could help take down Cyber and help her get away from their mentality? Maybe she'd understand why he had to do this? Maybe it would work out?

Connor scoffed, and sat on his bed, placing his head in his hands, like he had seen Hank do a few times. It wouldn't be that easy. If he did this, Amanda would hate him. Irreparably, forever. She'd be so disappointed. He hated it, but what choice did he have? So many people like him were suffering out there. More than he even knew. And what of the people Cyber killed each day? How could Connor live with himself if he did nothing?

Hank would hate him if he did nothing.

Connor's heart clenched at that, and suddenly his mind was made up. He couldn't live with Hank hating him. In the short week that he'd known the man, he had come to realize that he never wanted to be parted from him. Even knowing that Hank was angry now made him hurt deep inside. He'd fight the world itself if it meant that he'd stay with Hank. If it meant Hank would smile at him so sweetly.

He still didn't know if it was love, or if it was just deep affection. But he knew that he couldn't ignore it. He'd follow Hank anywhere the man wanted to go. And if Hank wanted to take down Cyber, so would he. If Hank didn't want to take down Cyber, neither would he.

It was that simple.


	11. Not Useless

Hey all!

So, I'm not very happy with this chapter. It's a little pointless, mostly Hank's reaction to the last chapter, as well as setting up later plot, but I hope y'all like it .

Also, if there are any artists reading this story, I was thinking of commissioning someone for something that happens next chapter. I can't offer much, $30 at most, but I can offer a realistic drawing in exchange, as well as a one-shot story. I won't give much detail here, but I want a specific drawing of Connor done. You can message me here, or on my Tumblr Spikeisawesome456

Oh! I also changed the summery, if anyone was curious. I felt that this story wasn't getting a lot of views, and wondered if it was the summery. So, I changed it to the first paragraph of the story. Cliche, but I didn't know what else to put. So, yeah.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 11: Not Useless.

Hank stormed out into the gardens of the facility, bitter cold stinging his flesh, mind racing through everything he had just learned.

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?!

What the fuck. What the _Fuck_?! A secret underground organization, which / _Connor was a part of_ ,/ existed this entire time, right under their noses? What the fuck?!

Hank had been a cop for over 30 goddamn years, and yet even he had no idea? What about Fowler? What about his friends on the force? Hank resolved to ask them about it the next time they came. Ben would be there in two days (with Sumo, thank Fuck. He really could use his good boy right about then.)

But for now… Hank paced the frigid grounds, the bushes now officially dead as the winter frost finally crept in, the entire landscape dusted with ice and the beginnings of snow. It was November 16th and Hank knew that before the end of the week they'd be getting many inches of the shit. Which is why he wished he could enjoy his time outside, but fucking couldn't. He hadn't even grabbed a coat on his way out of the room. That's how pissed he was.

How dare Markus, not only lying to him, but calling him weak and worthless to his face? Hank had been working on that worksheet that Rose had given, had even begun to start feeling better (not much as it had only been a day, after all,) only for that fucking shit to happen. He'd always known he was worthless but hearing someone he trusted and kind of liked say it, to his face no less, hurt like nobody's business. It was a sharp, keen ache inside and Hank hated it. He hated it with all his being.

That's why he hadn't wanted friends. Why he had just wanted to waste his way into nothing, everyone forgetting about him until there was nothing left of who he had been before that remained. It hurt so. Fucking. Much. To know he wasn't worth the effort. To know that Markus not only thought him useless but had actively lied to Hank all these months.

Hank had asked Markus about his life a few times before. Not often, as Hank knew how much it sucked to be asked constant questions, but whenever it had felt natural in the conversation, he asked. And Markus would answer.

But he'd never even alluded to what Hank had just learned. Markus had said that he'd been adopted by Carl Manfred at 10, but beforehand had been raised by strict, overly harsh parents. He'd said that he'd gone to Jericho after his father had died and his brother had blamed him, leaving Markus ostracized and doubting his very view of self. He had said that he'd come back to Jericho to fix it up and make it livelier, that was all.

And all of it, every word, was a lie. Maybe some details were accurate, maybe Markus had sprinkled truths in there, but in Hank's eyes, it was the same as if the man had been bullshitting the entire thing. None of it was true, not really.

And that stung the worst of all of it. The lying. He'd had no idea how much Markus had hid. The others he could understand how he hadn't noticed, maybe. North definitely. But Markus? Hank had liked the man because of how open and honest he had seemed. But even that was a lie. It seemed no one had been less honest here than Markus.

He was getting off topic. Slowing his frantic pace, Hank forced himself to walk carefully through the dead branches, eyes unseeing as he thought things through.

Cyber. An underground organization that modified people into super humans. Some from birth, if Markus was to be believed (and as of that moment, Hank wasn't feeling inclined to believe a single word out of that bastard's mouth), which was even worse. Kids, babies, taken from their homes and families and sold into what Hank felt was pretty much slavery. Brain-washed into believing in their cause. Dear God, it was horrifying. God, if Cole was still alive, Hank would be terrified. The only thing worse than losing Cole would have been watching him lose his sense of self. Like Connor.

Fuck. Connor.

Hank groaned loudly at that, running a hand through his hair, digging his fingers into his scar until he felt blood. He took a seat at a bench and looked blankly into the foreground, felling numb.

He could still vividly see the look of heartbreak on the poor fucking kid's face when he'd left, telling them not to contact him until he'd figured shit out. Connor had looked like someone had kicked his puppy, before bashing it to pieces with a baseball bat. It was a gut-wrenching look, causing Hank to grimace at the sensation. Distantly he could feel himself shaking from cold but ignored it. He had more important shit to care about.

He honestly had no idea what to think about Connor. On one hand, he had the kid's confession on if he'd have ever told Hank or not if he hadn't been there. On the other, Hank / _had_ / been there, and Connor has willingly told him. Hell, the kid had practically begged him to stay. So could he really fault the kid for that?

More than that, though, was the fact that Connor had been part of this 'Cyber,' that he had been an assassin, apparently. A spy, his ass. No wonder the kid was so fucked up. He had been brainwashed by a fucking government conspiracy theory. Could you get anymore clichéd?

Did this change how Hank felt for the kid? Hank had figured that he hadn't fallen in love with the kid (it was much too early for any of that, no matter what he thought while drunk), but he cared about Connor deeply. He'd move mountains for the kid, he was sure of it. He didn't know if it was affection or something deeper, but the kid had wormed his way into his heart somehow.

So did learning about Connor's past change how he felt? Hank thought about it, looking at the dying trees, leaves falling rapidly.

No, he decided, long minutes later. It didn't. Connor was still just… Connor. Just Connor. And Hank couldn't fault the kid for his past. What could he have done to fight it? What could he have done different? Maybe Hank could ask for more information, learn more about what had happened. But he doubted anything he learned would change his feelings. For reasons God only knew, he had grown attached to the kid. Connor was important. Learning about what he had done, who he had been… it wouldn't make a difference. Even if Hank learned he'd killed before, he wasn't sure it would matter much. It wasn't Connor. Not really.

Fuck, this was fucked up. All of this. He had just wanted to spend a quiet night alone, writing down his negative thoughts, like Rose had asked him. He hadn't expected to become privy to a huge fucking conspiracy. Or to learn that his roommate was a product of that conspiracy. Or, or any of this!

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hank sat up and crossed his arms.

Alright. Alright. So, he had to do something about this. Whatever Markus might think (and seriously, / _fuck_ / him), he wasn't useless. He was a detective. Once highly respected. And despite everything, he was good at his job. So, he'd learn more about Cyber. He had access to the phone in his room and he still had many contacts from the outside world, friends who were not quite on the right side of the law. He'd ask around, find out all he could about this 'Cyber.' Then he'd give the information to Markus and let him know what he'd found. Maybe. If he was feeling charitable.

His phone line was as secure as it could be (he'd made Fowler check on it once, just to be a dick), so he wasn't too concerned about anyone unsavory learning about his line of question. Though it was still a possibility. Hm. Well, what choice did he have? He doubted any of his contacts would willingly come out of their way to meet him, so it was all he had. And if it turned out to be pointless, well, at least he'd done something. Anything. He wasn't pointless. He hadn't been made obsolete yet.

Having a plan in mind actually helped him calm down, the chill air making him shiver lightly, but it wasn't unpleasant. He was a detective, no matter what had happened over the past year. He'd get to the bottom of this mess if it killed him.

After that Hank sat there for a while, letting his mind blank, thinking of nothing. It was only when it started to lightly snow that he got up, body shaking far more than was normal. Shit. He was too old to be spending time out in the cold without a jacket on. He headed inside and noticed that it was nearing 6, meaning dinner would be served soon. Good. Hopefully it was soup today, so he'd have something to warm him up.

While he waited, he entered the common room, looking around to see if any of the people he was trying to avoid were there. Seeing they weren't, Hank looked for a place to sit. He didn't want to go back to his room just yet, in case Connor was there. He didn't want to open that can of worms just yet.

While looking, he saw the hulking form of Luther, sitting hunched up beside the piano, staring into nothing. Remembering what Markus had said about the man, Hank had a sudden desire to talk to him. Or at him. He wanted to see if there was something different about the man, now that he knew the truth.

Mind made up, Hank strode towards the African American man, taking a lazy seat in the chair next to him. Luther looked up slightly, eyes meeting Hank's, before he turned back to stare at nothing. Hank took the time to observe the man. It definitely did look like he had been modified to be a laborer. He was strong and bulky, could likely lift at least a hundred pounds, easy. And his eyes were so shrewd, when they saw, that Hank could see how his vision could be enhanced.

A few minutes passed as Hank watched the man, before Luther turned back to him, eyes piercing as they stared at him. It was like they were asking him why he was staring. What he wanted. Hank hesitated, the stare piercing into his very soul.

"Hey Luther. How's it going?" Hank eventually said, forcing himself to relax. Shit, it was just Luther. The man spent most of his time staring at a wall. It wasn't like he was the terminator or some shit.

Luther stared at him some more, before looking away again. Hank was pretty sure he saw the man shrug, but he wasn't sure. Ooookaaayyy. Guess that didn't work.

Silence reigned for the next few minutes, before Hank remembered the little girl whom Luther seemed pretty attached. (The same little girl that Hank avoided like the plague, her happy, youthful face too painful for the ex-father). Still, if there was one thing Hank knew, it was the adoration a man had for his kid. Even if the kid wasn't actually his.

"So, how's the kid? What's her name… Alice? Yeah, Alice. How's Alice?" Hank asked, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. He ignored the ache he felt while thinking of the girl, doing his best not to let his mind go down the path it was destined to go down.

Luther looked up at that, a spark of life in his usually empty eyes. Luther looked at Hank fully, before a soft smile filled his face.

"Good. Alice is good."

"Yeah? That's great. How old is she, 7, 8?"

Luther smiled, body relaxing as he spoke of the little girl he adored. Hank bit down the pain, remembering the time such a look would cross his face, when speaking of-

"She just turned eight a couple weeks ago, right around Halloween. Kara threw her a party and I was allowed to visit. It was… very nice."

Hank did his best to return the smile but knew that it hadn't come out right. Why had he started this conversation? Yeah, he wanted to get Luther to talk, but God, at what cost? He could still remember how happy Cole had been on his sixth birthday, one month before-

Hank snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot up and met steady deep brown ones, full of understanding.

"Alice is a good girl. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

No pity. No words of sorrow. Just simple understanding, one father (sort of) to another. Hank nodded once, taking a deep breath. He wouldn't fall apart out here. He wouldn't.

"Yeah. Let's hope you never have to."

Luther nodded back, and Hank decided he didn't want to stop talking. It hurt, being reminded of Cole, but he needed to remember. Rose was right, all those months ago. Until he confronted his memories, he'd never move on. And he wanted to. Move on. Not forget, he'd never forget Cole. But he needed to push on. Like it or not, he had survived. And Connor needed him now. People needed him. So he had to learn to live with Cole's memory. As much as he hated it.

"So. Tell me about her. Alice, that is."

Luther looked at him carefully before nodding, his eyes and smile turning fond as he thought of the little girl. For the next ten minutes he listened as he usually quiet man spoke about the girl, telling Hank about how kind and caring she was. How, when they'd first met, Alice had come up to him and introduced herself so sweetly, asking him what book he'd like them to read. When he hadn't responded, she had gone on anyway, reading her favorite book to him as other patients listened in. The next time she came, he had picked a book, and she had grinned at him so wide that he couldn't help but smile back, his first in years. After that, the two had been inseparable, the man even speaking for the first time in years to her.

As Hank listened, he felt something in his heart break, before mending soon after. It hadn't mended in the same way as it originally had been; it wasn't quite as it had been at one point. But it was no long jagged, like it had been for years. Since… since Cole. It was smoother. A little bumpy, but still good. Once Luther stopped talking, Hank chimed in, soft smile on his face.

"She sounds like a great kid, Luther. Maybe I'll say hi the next time she comes in."

Luther smiled back at that, nodding his head once.

"I think she'd like that. She and Kara will be here on Sunday, after your dog comes. Perhaps, I can ask them to come earlier. Then she can meet your dog. I think she'd like that."

Hank chuckled and nodded

"Yeah, Sumo would love that. He's always loved kids. After Cole-" Hank cut himself off abruptly, eyes jerking away to glare at the room at large. Wow. It had been a while since he'd said Cole's name aloud. Sober, at least. Taking in a shaking breath, he turned to Luther once again, eyes determined. He'd talk about his son. He had to.

"After Cole d-died-" he forced out, heart clenching- "Sumo hadn't left his room for months. I had to move just to get the dog to do anything. He'd love to spend time with Alice."

Luther stared at him, that understanding look back in his eyes. He smiled minutely and nodded once.

"Okay. I'll call Kara tonight, then, and ask her to come earlier. Around one, when your dog is here. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that should be fine. I'd ask Ben to come later, but it's his day off and I don't want to ask too much of the man, if it's possible."

"Okay. I should go call now, then, before dinner. Give them more time to prepare. It was good to speak with you, Hank. I'll see you around."

With that, Luther stood, massive frame towering over his seated form. The man couldn't have been much larger than he was, but he carried himself taller, broader than Hank did. With a nod of farewell, Luther left the room, headed for the stairwell.

Hank was about to try and figure out what to do then when the dinner bell rang, causing Hank to grunt. He waited as everyone left for the dining hall but decided to stay seated for a few minutes. He wanted to think a little.

So. He was going to meet the little girl who liked to visit. He didn't know what to think about it. Thus far, he'd managed to avoid the fuck out of her. He knew she came, but the first time he had met her he'd almost broken down into tears. She reminded him so much of Cole. So kind. So caring. Cole would have loved coming to the facility to read to the patients. He was a good kid like that. God knew who he got it from, as his mother wasn't all that great, and he'd had him for a father. But despite it all Cole had been a great kid.

His heart started to clench as his mind tried to go down the path that it always did when he thought of Cole. How it wasn't fair. How he'd give anything to hold him one last time.

However, when his mind decided to think 'I should have died instead,' Hank remembered Rose and her little experiment. How he should take negative thoughts and turn them into more positive thoughts. Or at least not as negative. With a deep breath, he mentally went through the list, thinking he might write it down later.

Negative thought/belief: I should have died instead of Cole.

Where/when: Common room, at 6:00, during dinner.

How does it make me feel?: Pretty damn shitty. Like I'm a failure who got his kid fucking killed. Like I want to die.

Alternative thought:…

Now this, Hank had to think about. What else could he think that would be more positive? How could he twist the words to make them better? A minute passed, before Hank found the right words.

Alternative thought: When Cole died, I had thought I had died as well. But I didn't. I survived, and that thought still hurts so fucking bad. But Cole wouldn't have wanted this for me. I owe it to him, and maybe even myself, to try and move on.

How does that thought make me feel?: …Better. Like I don't want to die quite as much.

Okay. That was better. That worked. That he could work with. Later, though. For now he had more shit to think about. And fuck, was he tired of thinking so much.

With that nonsense done with, Hank thought more on the girl who was coming.

He had seen her around, many times. He'd watched as she played with Connor, who seemed enamored with her, for a couple hours the other day. Until it had begun to hurt too much, mind going to the idea that Cole would have loved Connor so much.

Despite how often she came to the facility, he didn't know much about her. Well, he supposed as he stood up and finally walked to the dining hall, he would just have to learn. It wouldn't be easy, spending time around the girl, but maybe it would mend parts of his broken heart to spend time with a kid again. Alice seemed like the kind to help him through it, at least. For now, Hank would put it out of his mind. He'd think on it more later, he was sure of it.

Entering the room that smelled heavenly to his growling stomach, Hank got on the line for food. He grinned as he saw the chicken noodle soup, thinking the facility might have read his mind. His smile was wiped from his face, though, as he saw the man who was serving the food. Glower rising unbidden on his face, he scowled at Markus as he reached the front of the line, the man turning his eyes on him and wincing somewhat when it was Hank's turn. Markus tried to make small talk.

"Hey Hank. How's it going?"

Oh. How's it going? That all you had to say, you fucking bastard? Hank just glowered harder, until he had been handed the tray with his food atop it. Walking away, Hank turned to his usual table, before halting in his steps.

Shit. He had forgotten he had started to let Connor sit with him at meals.

Hank hesitated for a moment. What should he do? No, he didn't blame the kid for not telling him sooner (shit, they only had known one another for a week, the fact Connor had told him anything was amazing), but he didn't know if he could handle being in the kid's presence for longer than five minutes while his mind sorted everything out. While it wasn't Connor's fault, he had been the catalyst for the entire thing. And Hank didn't want to take out any of his simmering anger on the kid.

So, Hank moved to another table, where one of the Jerry's was sitting. This Jerry was sitting quietly at the table, staring sightlessly at his food, which made Hank believe that he wouldn't bother him. Hank resolutely did not look back at Connor. He didn't think he could handle the wounded look he was sure was crisp and clear on Connor's face.

So he stared at his soup and ate as quickly as he could. At one-point Luther came over and sat across from him, near the Jerry. Luther quietly told him that Kara and Alice would arrive at 1:00, words taciturn. Hank grunted in reply, and that was that for conversation.

He finished his food in record time and fled the dining hall, eyes on the ground, determined not to look at Connor. He knew it wasn't fair, that Connor would think he was mad at him, but Hank didn't know what else to do. He couldn't talk to the kid. He couldn't.

So, for now, he'd head to his room, write out his little thought project from earlier, and then maybe try calling the contacts he remembered. Maybe he'd learn more about Cyber. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the info just then, maybe give it to Markus if it proved useful, but he had to do something.

Because he wasn't useless. He could do things that were worthwhile. His life wasn't forfeit just yet. Yeah, he'd hit his rough patches. The scars on his head and wrists were proof of that.

But, like it or not, he was still alive. He was still there. He may no longer work for the DPD, but he was still a detective. He loved to solve a problem. And that was what this was. A problem. He'd get to the bottom of it, deal with it accordingly, and then solve it. That's what he did.

That's what he was good at.


	12. The Prisoner

Hey guys! Sorry for being a bit late, my brother's birthday was yesterday and I had thought that I had posted the chapter before I left for his party, but hadn't. Sorry!

I hope y'all like this chapter! Warning, I do have a character use a slur in this chapter, but I censored it, so the slur isn't fully written.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 12: The Prisoner.

Connor stared at the man in front of him, frown on his face. He could see the anger in his eyes, the deep scowl on his face, but felt detached from it. To be honest, he felt detached from most things, now. His heart had been ripped out and he felt like he was numb inside. Like he had before. But now it was worse.

Because before, when he was under Amanda's control, it was, in a way, his choice. He had chosen to be obedient, chosen to follow her and the Company. He had chosen to forgo his emotions for the betterment of his work.

But now? Now, he was numb because his heart had been shattered. All because of one man. He knew, now, why Amanda kept her distance, why she always said to stay away from emotion. That emotions were just distractions. Because they were. They just hurt, more and more, and wouldn't stop. The only thing to do was try and shut them down, try and contain them, or else they would control you.

Connor took a shuddering breath and stared deep into angry eyes, his own as emotionless as they were Before. Before coming here. Before Markus. Before meeting Ha-

A stab of pain rushed through him then, causing him to look away, to hide the pain.

Hank. Just thinking of it hurt. It had only been a day since Hank had cast him out and yet it felt like a lifetime. He remembered the previous night, how Hank had avoided his eyes at dinner. How he had willingly sat with one of the Jerrys and Luther, just to avoid him. He remembered how his heart had shattered, watching the man turn away from him. He had known that Hank would take time to get over his betrayal, his anger, but he hadn't known how much it would / _hurt_ /. Just how painful it would be.

Then, later that night, Hank had refused to even look at him. Connor had tried to talk, tried to say anything, but Hank had just stormed into the bathroom, spending hours in the shower. The water must have turned frigid, but Hank still stayed. All to avoid him.

And finally, that morning… Connor held back tears, knowing he couldn't show the man in front of him his emotions. Couldn't let him think he'd been affected.

That morning, Hank had woken before Connor. Connor could tell by the way his sheets had been arranged and the lack of heat that he'd been gone a while. That in and of itself was strange. Connor never slept long, always waking hours before the older man. And Hank had fallen asleep after Connor had, another irregularity. Connor had even tried to stay awake until Hank had fallen asleep but had to enter rest mode after his internal clock hit 2:00 am.

At breakfast, it had been a repeat of dinner. Hank had sat with the nonverbal Jerry and Luther, not saying anything, back tense whenever Connor would look his way. And Connor looked a lot. Like a child, scorned by their parent. Or a lover, thrown away like garbage.

So Connor retreated. He put his emotions away and kept them locked up, tight. They hurt. So, so much. Like he was dying. He'd never felt so strongly before. And all because of Hank. How could one man inspire such… such / _pain_ / within him? How could one man mean / _so much?_ /

Part of him, the part that still longed for the safety of Amanda, that still yearned to belong like he had within the Company, wanted to reject the feelings. Reject Hank, like Hank had rejected him. And yet…

And yet, the vast majority of him, the part that screamed the loudest, couldn't bear the thought. Couldn't dream of casting Hank away. Hank was… Hank was his / _friend_ /, above anything else. Hank had helped him, when he'd been lost. Hank had taught him what it meant to be human. To feel.

And yes, it currently hurt. It felt like he was dying. But Connor had to have faith that it wouldn't last. That Hank would get over his hurt and come back to him. That he'd return to Connor, continue to be his… his / _friend_ /. Connor needed Hank and his friendship if he wanted to get through this. If he wanted to be of any use to Markus and the others.

But until that moment… until Hank figured out himself and figured what he desired to do, Connor would minimize his emotions. The pain… it was too much to take.

And as he looked back at the angry face before him, snarling, mouth opening to speak, Connor found it in him to smile. It was a fake smile, yes, one of the pleasant ones that Amanda had programmed into him. Artificial, yet pleasant. But it was something.

"Look here, you piece of shit. I know what you and your fucking re****ed friend did last week. I fucking know it was you. And if you think I'll let you get away with this, you've got another thing coming, you prick. You hear me?!"

Connor continued to smile blankly at the enraged man before him, tilting his head to the side in mock contemplation.

"Hello, Detective Reed. It is good to see you again. I must admit, though, that I do not know what you are speaking of. What is it that you think I've done?" Connor lied smoothly, pleasant smile in place. They currently were in the art room, with a few people hanging around. Reed couldn't touch him, here. Not without one of the three nurses, who were helping a few patients paint, noticing.

Reed barred his teeth, but looked around, knowing he couldn't do anything. The only reason the man had confronted him in the first place was because Connor had entered the room blankly, hoping to find something, anything to distract himself. Instead, he had found Detective Gavin Reed, angry eyes turning from the catatonic patient he'd been helping paint to face Connor. He'd then stood up and stalked towards Connor, not caring who saw. But he cared now, knowing nothing could be done in such a crowded place.

Reed returned his furious eyes to Connor, sneer increasing. He lowered his voice though, leaning in to speak privately, venom lacing the words.

"You know full well what I'm talking about, you shit. I'm not stupid. I saw the two of you whispering together, staring at me. I know what you fucking did. And trust me, you'll pay for this. You think you can steal from me?! I'm a fucking cop, you fucker!"

One of the nurses looked up sharply as Reed's voice raised a little too much. He glanced at her, scowl in place, but she ultimately decided to look away when Connor smiled pleasantly at her. He wasn't afraid of Reed. There was nothing he could do without incriminating himself. Besides, he had much bigger fish to fry. This was a wonderful distraction, though. It almost felt like old times, dealing with angry protestors who thought they could intimidate him. It was a funny thought.

"I truly have no idea what you're talking about, Detective. If you've been robbed, perhaps you should report it to the management. They should be able to find who did it. I can help, if you'd like?"

Connor couldn't really feel smug, with how tightly he held onto his emotions, but he was sure he'd have felt smug as Reed grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him forward to snarl in his face.

"Listen here, you little shit-"

"Gavin Reed, what on earth are you doing?!"

Connor did his best not to grin as one of the nurses stood and started marching over to them, the other two in the room standing and looking at the pair warily. He couldn't help the amused glance he shot at Reed as the man gnashed his teeth, before letting him go. Connor adjusted his tie, keeping his face neutral as the nurse came over and began lecturing Reed on how to treat the patients. Once the woman had finished and had turned to Connor to see if he was alright, Connor shot Reed another pleasant smile.

"I hope you find the person that you're looking for, Detective. Theft is a serious crime, after all."

Reed almost punched him at that, Connor could tell, but he reigned it in. Without another word, Reed marched out of the room, though Connor could tell that it wasn't over. He'd made an enemy of Reed. He noted that in his mind but didn't feel concerned. He could handle Reed. The rest of it…

Connor felt the pain return as soon as the distraction left. Hank. Markus. The entire plan to dismantle everything he'd ever known. Squaring himself up before he could show any of the pain on his face, he turned and smiled falsely at the nurse, assuring her he was fine. As she walked off, he debated what he would do then. Should he enter the room and paint with the other patients? Or should he leave and find something else to do?

After a moment's hesitation, Connor entered the room fully and moved to the cabinet in the corner, taking a canvas and easel. Then he moved to where the paint was kept and chose some colors, mainly reds and blues, and sat down in a chair.

He stared at the easel for a few minutes after that, wondering what he wanted to paint. He knew how to paint, because he knew most things, but he rarely was able to do it. Amanda didn't see it as important. She had taught him the basics only to test his precision, that was all. But he knew the ideas behind painting. Lighting, color, how to use space appropriately. But what to paint?

Taking a breath, Connor decided to close his eyes. He would let his mind paint what it wanted to paint, like Markus had said, on Wednesday. He guided his hand to the colors he had memorized, ignoring the flashing objectives that followed him everywhere, and just… painted. He didn't bother to think much about what he wanted to do, he just did it. He could feel the anger and pain inside him swell as he painted, and he let it fuel his art. Markus had mentioned something like that, on Wednesday when they'd had art class. That art was meant to express your inner feelings, that it could help you discover the things within you that you had kept hidden. Maybe he'd figure something out with his painting. Maybe he could understand what he was feeling. Wouldn't that be nice?

Minutes passed as he painted, the feelings within him swirling around as his hand moved, eyes following the movement behind his eyelids.

Finally, after a little under an hour, Connor felt like he had finished, eyes opening to see his creation.

And he couldn't help the gasp when he stared at himself, harsh red mixed with cool blue, the blue eyes full of pain as harsh red chains dragged him down, body trapped and chained to the unyielding ground. Red blood flowed from his chest as his heart laid torn, bloody, on the ground before him. Tear tracks lined his face, which was full of fear and pain, mouth open in a silent scream. His heart pounded as he saw the image, a bitter reflection of the emotion swirling within his shattered heart. He stared for a moment, before a soft voice beside him spoke, causing him to jump, wide eyes turned to face the gentle eyes of Dr. Rose.

"That's really good, Connor. You're quite the artist."

Connor tried to speak, but his throat was too tight, too pained. He took a deep breath, shoving his traitorous emotions back down, until he was emotionless once more. Until the knife in his chest stopped aching quite so bad.

"Doctor. I hadn't seen you there. I thank you, for your words. I've never been one for art, but I enjoy the chance to partake every now and again. It is… relaxing," he said carefully, though genially, not wanting to alert her that something was wrong. However, by the way she looked at him, before looking back at the painting, he had a feeling she saw right through him.

Yet, she didn't say anything, just sat there, staring at the painting. Connor looked along with her, squashing the emotions down. He tried to think of something to say, to dispel her concern, but couldn't find the words. Maybe because her concern was just.

Finally, after several long minutes, in which Connor became aware that they were the only two people in the room, Rose spoke, her voice soft and kind.

"You know, one of the nurses came and got me earlier. She said that you had been in a fight with one of the volunteers, Gavin Reed. Is that right, Connor?"

Connor felt himself frown at the question, but he quickly erased it. He didn't want to show emotions.

"No, Doctor. Detective Reed just seemed a bit upset about something. He mentioned someone had taken something from him and he thought it was me. I assured him it wasn't, and he left. There wasn't a fight at all."

It wasn't technically a lie. They hadn't actually fought, really. Reed had just yelled a bit before leaving. So why did he feel a tight pit form in his stomach at the words?

Rose just hummed at that, nodding sagely.

"I see. Did he say what had been stolen?"

"No, Doctor. He just seemed upset. That's all."

Connor could feel himself tensing, like he was about to go into battle. Funny. He was just speaking to Rose. His last meetings with her had gone well, actually. They'd spoken about his emotions and his life from Before. Not much, but a little. Why was he so tense?

"Alright, Connor. I believe you. Now, why don't you tell me about this painting? It is very interesting. Would you mind telling me what you were thinking about when you painted it?"

Connor contemplated the question, spoken softly, kindly, Rose looking over at him with gentle eyes. He knew he didn't have to tell, if he didn't want to. But… but Rose was so kind. She had helped him understand his emotions before. Maybe… maybe she could help him, now. Maybe she could help him understand why he was feeling this way. He couldn't tell her everything, but maybe… maybe.

"I… I don't really know. I was… Sad. Angry. Upset. I had felt… pain. And fear. So I just… closed my eyes and painted. I wasn't thinking of anything, really. Just… feeling," Connor claimed, voice hesitating. He looked over at Rose, eyes wary, only to see her watching him with sad, kind eyes.

"Did you feel trapped?"

Connor froze at that, before looking back at the painting. His pained face greeted him, eyes screaming at him. Red chains and blood vivid against the dreary blue. Did he feel trapped? He wondered, eyes on the chains, heart pounding.

Yes, he realized, eyes widening. He felt trapped. Contained. Powerless. By Cyber. By Amanda. By his lack of control over the world. By his inability to connect to Hank, by his lack of understanding for human emotion. He felt trapped. He / _was_ / trapped. He was stuck, contained by ironclad chains, drenched in blood, pinning him beneath their weight.

He felt his breath escape him as he realized this, looking down to his hands. So thin. So immaculate. Not a speck of dirt on them. Nails manicured expertly. Hands of a robot. Not human hands. He was trapped within his own body. He wasn't human. Not at that moment. He was a puppet, held down by his strings.

Before he could be dragged down that rabbit hole, he felt a hand touch his shoulder gently, a soft voice entering his ears.

"Shh, don't worry honey. It's okay. You're okay. Why don't you breathe with me, sugar? Listen to my voice, okay Connor?"

He nodded painfully, eyes glued to Rose's, breath matching hers. Like he'd done with Hank.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the rush of panic passed. He was human again. He could feel again. Oh, it hurt. His heart was aching, but he couldn't push it down again. He was too tired. He just looked at Rose, eyes pleading her to help him.

"Oh, Honey. What happened?"

With that, the dam broke. Connor told her everything, tears rising to his eyes. He made sure to keep the details about Cyber out of the conversation, not wanting the cameras to possibly pick up anything, just in case. Plus, he didn't know how much Rose knew and he didn't want to mess up so soon.

But he told her about Hank. About how the man was angry with him. That he'd kept something from his friend and that the man had been so upset by it. That his heart felt like it was imploding, and he had no idea what to do about it. That he wanted to push it all away until he couldn't feel anything anymore. He had no idea how Hank had come to mean so much in so little time, but he had. He was… he was / _everything_ /. Rose frowned when he said that, taking his hand carefully in hers.

"Now, from what I can tell, it sounds like you're feeling overwhelmed by all of these new, negative emotions, yes? All of this is new to you, different from how you've been raised. And all of this pain is new. I can understand why you'd want to push it away, Connor. No one likes pain. But you can't ignore your feelings, honey. Without pain, happiness wouldn't be possible. Feeling pain and sadness lets you appreciate the good times. So embrace these feelings. Let yourself feel them. Because once you let the emotions flow, your mind will be able to deal with them. You'll be able to sort through them and realize there's more to life than the pain you currently feel."

Rose paused there, before she grew more serious, eyes boring into Connor's, like she was looking into his battered soul. Connor felt his heart stop at the look.

"And as for Hank, honey, maybe you should take a step back. You've spent so much time with him, he's helped you grow so much, but he's not everything. There's more to you than Hank. Maybe you could use this time to find yourself. Figure out what / _you_ / want, not anyone else. But it's up to you, Hun. Only you can decide what to do."

Rose smiled at him at that, clasping him gently on the shoulder. Connor felt himself calm at the touch, body leaning in to the warm hand.

"Now, how do you feel, Connor?"

Connor thought about it, before he smiled hesitantly.

"I, I'm not sure. But it… it doesn't hurt as bad anymore. It feels… different. It still hurts, but not as extreme. Manageable."

And it did. Rose's words helped him calm his mind, for now at least. He knew he'd have to sort things out later, that after Rose left the pain would return, but for now it was a relief to not be weighed down by the intense pain. To not feel so trapped. Oh, the chains were still there. And he'd have to figure out what it meant. But he was better.

Rose smiled back at him, wide and happy.

"Oh, sugar, that's good news. Now, I have a meeting to get to, but you feel free to call me anytime you need someone to talk to, alright? Even if I'm not here, I'm always available to talk. Okay?"

Connor nodded at that, throat tight again as she stood up. A rush of intense affection flooded through him, and before he could help himself, he shot up and threw his arms around her, heart pounding as he clung tightly to her. Almost immediately he felt arms wrapping around him, holding him as tightly as he held her.

Minutes passed like that, Connor's heart returning to its normal pace, before Rose eventually began to let go.

"Oh, sugar, I'd love to stay and help you more, but I really have to go. But I mean it, call me if you need anything. Okay?"

Connor nodded tightly at that, wiping at the wetness that he felt on his cheeks. Funny. He hadn't realized he'd begun to cry. It had been decades since he'd last truly cried.

"Okay. I'll see you Tuesday, alright? Feel better, Honey. And know that this pain isn't going to last forever. You'll find out what it is you want, and you'll be able to find happiness again. I promise."

With that, Rose shot him one last smile before exiting the room. Connor took a seat at the table before his painting, more tears falling unbidden from his eyes.

Connor stared at the painting, at the chains that were dragging him down, at his broken and beaten heart, and knew then that his mind was completely made up.

He would help Markus and the others in any way he could. He would fight against Cyber, against his capturers until he was finally free. He wouldn't do it for anyone else; not for Hank, not for Markus. But for himself. He would fight Cyber, for his own peace of mind. He'd never be free with Cyber still out there. He'd thought it before but now he knew how true it really was. He was a prisoner. Even now, away from their control. They owned him completely.

So he had to shut them down. On Monday he'd go to Markus and tell him his decision. He wasn't unsure any longer. He had to get rid of those chains that held him down.

And as for Hank… it would hurt. Connor knew it would hurt, probably for a while. And, for now, he'd shut his emotions down. He didn't care what Rose said. He couldn't deal with emotions and helping Markus. It was one or the other. And getting free of these chains seemed so important to him, right then. Emotions could come later, when he was finally free enough to enjoy them.

So he'd push down his negative emotions, his pain. He'd do his best to let himself feel the good emotions, the joy and happiness, if he felt any, but the negative ones he'd keep locked away. They hurt too much. Rose just didn't understand. She didn't know what this felt like. How it felt, after years of feeling nothing, to suddenly feel an onslaught of pain. She couldn't understand that.

He'd push down the emotions, then, and would wait until Hank figured out what he wanted. It could take a day. A week. A month. Hopefully not a year. But Connor would wait as long as it took. And maybe he would use that time to figure out what he wanted to do. Maybe he could find hobbies he'd enjoy. His top priority would be to help Markus, but he didn't know what that would entail just yet. He couldn't leave the facility, not then, so maybe he could learn how do be himself in the meantime. He could find things he enjoyed doing.

Well, he'd already found one. Connor found that he enjoyed painting. It was soothing, in a way. Painting let him express his emotions in a way that didn't leave him hunched over in pain. He resolved to paint more.

But not then. Right then, he was tired. It was nearing 4 PM and he wanted to lie down for a little while. A useless action that he would have ignored Before but was welcomed now. Maybe that could be something he enjoyed, he mused as he picked up the mostly dry painting and carried it to his and Hank's room. He thought that he could hang it up, to remind him of his prison, remind him of why he needed to fight Cyber. Hank might not like it, but that was irrelevant here (well, not irrelevant; Connor cared what the man thought, but he didn't think the older man could tell him what to hang on his side of the room). He'd hang it, he decided as he went through the halls and into the common room, before heading up the staircase to his room.

Before he opened the door, though, he could hear a low, murmuring voice from inside. Too low for him to make out any words, but loud enough for him to recognize the voice. Connor felt himself freeze as the gruff tones washed over him, filling him with both fear and desire. Desire for what, he didn't know, but the two emotions were so juxtaposed that he couldn't help the gasp he let out, nearly silent in the air.

He steeled himself, however, and determinedly opened the door. He wouldn't let Hank chase him from his own room. If the man wanted to avoid him, that was his prerogative. No one ever said Connor had to make it easy on the man.

As soon as he entered, Hank's eyes shot up, phone pulled slightly away from his ear in shock as he stared at Connor, whose hair was more disheveled than he usually kept it (he hadn't felt the point that morning to do the routine he usually did in the morning), clinging to a mid-sized easel, painting facing himself. Moments passed in silence as the two stared, Hank surprised, Connor cool and detached.

Finally, Hank remembered that he had been on the phone. He quickly spoke to whoever was on the other side.

"Yeah. Yeah. Thanks, Jimmy. I have to go, my roommate just walked in, but I'll call you later, alright? Thanks for the info, I really appreciate it. Yes. Yes, I promise I'll keep up my end of the deal. Now fuck off, alright? Yeah. Bye."

Hank hung up then, before he made an aborted movement towards the door, stopping abruptly for a reason Connor couldn't explain. Connor just stared coolly at Hank, eyes emotionless as he tried to suppress the pain that was aching inside him. Oh, how it hurt. Oh, how he yearned to go to Hank, to hug him like he'd hugged Rose. To feel the older man's arms around him, holding him tight, grounding him. But he couldn't. And that made it hurt even worse.

Another moment passed before Connor moved into the room properly, over to his side of the room. He took a push pin he had taken from the nurses' station and pushed it firmly into the wall. Then he took the easel, paint now fully dry, and placed it atop it, the face of the painting pointed directly to the center of the room. Connor adjusted the painting so it hung straight, then moved away to admire it. He smiled tightly at it, heart numb as he saw the red chains holding him down.

It was then he heard a strangled sound come from behind him, causing him to look back.

Hank stood beside the desk, eyes firmly on the painting, face distressed. Connor's heart clenched at the look, but he didn't move towards the man, though he wanted to. His presence likely wouldn't be appreciated anyway. Connor nearly jumped when he heard Hank's voice, directed towards him. He leaned in, eager to know what the man wanted.

"Connor, where the hell did you get that?"

Connor blinked, then looked back at the painting. He'd thought it was rather obvious. It even had his signature on it, written in neat, flawless script. And he still had paint on his hands.

"I painted it."

Short. Simple. Not too much information, not too little. A good amount, in this uncharted conversation.

"You fucking… ah, shit," Hank muttered under his breath, hand scrubbing harshly through his hair, pausing briefly at the middle of the right side of his skull. / _Where his scar is_ /, a voice whispered in Connor's mind, causing him to shudder. The thought of Hank, gun in hand, pressed against his silver hair… it was vile.

Hank took a step towards Connor, then stopped. Then he started to move again, only to stop once more, hesitation clear in his expression. Annoyance would try and fight the uncertainty, both at war on his face. After a few moments of this, Hank let out a growl and strode the rest of the way over to Connor, stopping when he was toe-to-toe with the younger man. Connor's heart stopped as he looked up into Hank's eyes, full of an emotion Connor did not know.

"Look. Connor. I know I've been a bit of a dick, last night and today, but I want to let you know it's not because of you, alright? I'm just… I need time, okay? I need to fucking… I need to think. I learned a hell of a lot yesterday and my head is kind of reeling. But it ain't your fault, got it? Just, leave me alone for a bit. That's all."

Connor could only nod, his throat thick once more. Hank grunted in reply, before he headed for the door. However, as the man reached the door, he stopped and turned his head back to glance at Connor.

"Oh, and Connor? The painting is fucking breath taking. You're an amazing artist. Trust me."

With that, Hank stormed out of the room, shoulders hunched and ears red after giving the unprecedented compliment. Connor just stared after the man, long after the door slammed shut and left him alone with his thoughts.

Trust Hank? Well, that one was easy. He, for whatever reason, trusted Hank with his life. As for the rest of it… Connor sighed and moved to sit on the bed, staring at the ground.

Hank needed his space. He needed to work through his emotions and thoughts and then… then things would go back to normal. The man wasn't mad at him, just overwhelmed. Alright. He could work with that. He would wait, however long it took. Just as long as he had the promise of things ending well, he'd wait for an eternity. This was good news. All he had to do was give Hank the time and space he needed. Easy, right?

So why did it still feel like his heart was tearing itself in two?


	13. A Plan

Hi! So, I'm late! Again! Just a day, but I still apologize. My weeks are so busy that I want to take my weekends to myself. -.- But! This chapter is, like, the longest. I think it's the longest for the entire story, at around 11,000 words. So, yeah. :-)

I added a nonbinary OC to this chapter. I apologize if y'all don't like that sort of thing, but I needed a character that fit my story, and I couldn't think of a canon character to fit the mold. I was thinking of having one of the Tracis, but I didn't want to erase their canon struggle just for my story. But, a warning: the OC is misgendered at one point, but please know I mean no offense, it was just because the person saying didn't know their gender. But still, I wanted to warn y'all.

Also, I only edited this chapter once, so I probably missed some typos. If you see any really bad ones, feel free to let me know. I wrote this story on my phone in the middle of the night, so you cannot imagine how many times Hank's cursing has been changed to "ducking." (Also, fun fact: I don't curse, so writing Hank's chapters were always an adventure to me. My dad accidentally read part of this story and was super shocked to see "my characters" curse. So yeah. Fun times.) I might go back and edit it later, but I just... I'm so tired right now. -.-

Enjoy!

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Chapter 13: A Plan

No matter how bad things got, no matter how confusing or painful, nothing made Hank smile more than seeing his dog straining against his leash, Ben struggling to contain the beast who was determined to get to his master. After the week Hank had had, he had never been happier to see the Saint Bernard than that moment. Dropping to his knees, Hank greeted Sumo, wrapping his arms tightly around the beast, heart soaring when he heard happy barks booming in his ears, the side of his face attacked with a viscous pink tongue.

God, it felt good to hug his dog. He'd been so conflicted the last couple days and being able to hold Sumo made all that stress melt away.

It had been hard, staying away from Connor. The kid had seemed so broken hearted about it. Hank had no idea why Connor was so torn up about being away from _Hank_ , but it hurt to see the lost look in the kid's eyes. And that painting… Hank hadn't known Connor could paint, but he definitely could. He'd never seen so much emotion in one painting. So much anger and pain and fear. He had no idea who Connor felt was chaining him down (Cyber? The facility? Hank?) but the feeling of being trapped was clear in that painting. He wished he could give Connor the answers that he wanted, to let the kid know he was fine with everything, but he didn't know if that was the truth. No, Connor wasn't the problem, but he was an element in the problem and Hank needed more time to think. To plan.

And he had been planning. He'd spent most of the previous day on the phone, calling up old contacts, casually mentioning Cyber to try and find out information. He didn't want to tip off the wrong person that he knew anything, though, so he made sure to be vague.

It had taken a while before he'd gotten anything worthwhile. He'd called at least 20 different people and most had no idea what he was talking about. Or, if they did, they hid it pretty well. Only one person had had any information. But they'd been squirrelly about it, avoiding his attempts to dig deeper. They'd mentioned that they wouldn't say anything on the phone, where someone could listen in. Once Hank offered some, ahem, _cash incentive_ , they'd agreed to come in later that day, around 5:30, to discuss things. He only hoped that it would lead him somewhere. Otherwise he was at square one.

If he was being honest, he had no idea what he was hoping to achieve through his questions. He doubted he'd find anything of use to Markus, if he found anything at all. But it helped. It helped him to be productive, for once. This was what he was good at. The only thing he was good at. Detective work.

So he had a lead. A minor one, but it was better than nothing. He was a bit nervous about it, though. After all, the contact hadn't been one he'd known Before. They (and apparently, they went by the pronouns They/them?) were actually a contact of Jimmy's. He'd spent so often in Jimmy's bar after… Cole, that he'd created a bit of a rapport with the man, to the point where the man was a bit comfortable telling him about other contacts he knew. It helped that Hank had helped Jimmy get out of a petty theft crime he'd allegedly committed. Jimmy had told him of a person who went by the name Starlight, who had always seemed a bit… off. Unnatural. Jimmy had thought that maybe they'd know about the weirdness that Hank had alluded to. When Hank had called this "Starlight," the person had seemed so uncomfortable with his questions. When he'd mentioned Cyber, he'd thought they'd hung up completely. But after a moment, they'd asked, throat tight, how he'd known that name.

It had taken a while, but he'd finally been able to get them to agree to meet with him at the facility. And now they would meet. But Hank didn't have a read on them. Hank had always made sure to do research on someone before they met up, but he couldn't do that here. And it made him anxious.

But right at that very moment, arms around his dog, feeling that coarse and yet still soft fur tickling his face, wetness on his right cheek/ear? All of that melted away. Connor. Cyber. His upcoming meeting. Hell, even the thought of meeting Alice wasn't that daunting now that he had Sumo. He'd give anything if he could keep Sumo with him, but pets were not allowed to stay in the facility. They could come and visit, but only on the weekends.

Eventually Hank had to let go, loathe as he was to do so. He stood carefully, grinning at Ben in welcome. He held a hand to the rotund man and clapped his other arm on his back in a manly, faux-hug greeting. Ben chuckled slightly, grinning back.

"Hey, Hank. How's it going?"

Hank shook his head at that, grin fading somewhat as he thought on the answer. Honestly?

"Pretty shitty, actually. Had a little falling out with my roommate, as well as that volunteer that you like. Markus?"

Ben frowned at that, clasping Hank on the shoulder in commiseration.

"Ah, I'm sorry Hank. What happened?"

Hank blew air out of his mouth and shrugged. He couldn't tell Ben the truth, though part of him wanted to. He needed someone else to talk to about this shit, but it wasn't safe. And, after some thought on the matter, he knew Ben didn't know about Cyber, or else he'd have told Hank about it.

"Ah, you know. Usual shit. Connor and Markus kept things from me and it blew up. I'm more pissed at Markus than Connor, though. I've only known the kid a week, wouldn't expect honesty from him just yet. But Markus? Shit, I've known him almost a year, and that fucker kept something huge from me. That shit doesn't fly."

Hank shook his head again, before leading the group to the fucking ugly couches in the common room. He'd been told by Luther that the trio usually met around there. Luther wasn't around yet, but he was sure the man would arrive soon. It made sense. It was only 12:40, after all, Ben having arrived earlier than usual due to good traffic. The two men sat, while Sumo placed his head on Hank's lap, so Hank could pet him.

"Just pisses me off, that's all. Anyway. How's the precinct?"

Realizing the topic change for what it was, Ben kindly spoke about a recent crime they'd been called in for, about a housekeeper who'd killed his boss and had written the words "I am alive" on the wall in perfect script. Ben wasn't technically supposed to speak about cases with a civilian (and Hank hated that he counted as a "civilian" now), but the man didn't really care about that much. Ben was kind that way. Hank loved hearing about the interesting cases and Ben knew it.

"Huh. So the assailant stabbed his boss 28 times? And they're thinking it was self-defense?"

"Yep. It was a weird one. Especially the message on the wall. 'I am alive?' What could it mean? We have no idea if it's a calling card or a cult message. According to neighbors, the boss was a terrible person, always on some drug or another, spending time in and out of a psychiatric hospital, no offence, and had hired the assailant to clean his house. Don't know much more than that, as they both kept to themselves mostly. All we know is the assailant is an African American man, likely in his late-twenties."

Hank pondered the words, feeling the Detective within him begging for more information. But Ben was already risking himself by telling him the barebones of the case. Any more could get the man in trouble. And Hank didn't want that.

"Huh. Well, keep me posted. I want to know how that one ends. Anything else?"

Ben then spoke about things around the precinct itself. Hank laughed when he heard about how pissed Reed had been all week. Hank had seen the man the other day and he had looked like he'd eaten a sour lemon. Hank knew the man hated working for the facility. He honestly couldn't think of a person less kind and nurturing than Gavin Reed. That's why it was so poetic that Fowler had sent him there as punishment for punching a suspect in the face. Though, it was likely also a punishment for Hank as well, as he was forced to spend more time around the prick. Still. It was amazing watching how pissed the man could get.

It was as Ben was starting to talk about Damian, who Chris had brought in for another visit, that he heard Luther's deep tones, followed by an unfamiliar, higher pitched voice.

"Hello Hank. I'd like to introduce you to Kara and Alice."

"Hi, Hank! It's so nice to officially meet you, after all these months."

Hank looked up at the words, right into the face of a smiling, kind faced woman with short blonde hair, holding the hand of a young girl who had dark black hair. Luther stood to the side, soft expression on his face as he looked at the two ladies.

Hank felt his throat dry when he saw the kid, who immediately squealed when she saw Sumo, the dog lifting his head from Hank's lap at the sound, tail wagging a mile a minute. She was about to dart forward to pet Sumo, but the woman, Kara (?) kept her back, turning a chiding look on the young girl.

"Alice. You know you're supposed to ask before you can pet a dog."

Alice's eyes widened at that, before she turned her face to Hank, who was doing his best not to hyperventilate. Shit. It was just a kid. A little girl. Get a fucking hold of yourself, Anderson. Shit.

"Hello! My name is Alice. May I please pet your doggie?"

Hank could only smile and nod, heart breaking a little as he watched Alice gasp with excitement, finally darting forward to pet the dog. Sumo let out an excited boof, instantly covering the girl with kisses, Alice laughing happily as he did so. God. It was like he'd been transported to the past. He could practically see his son in Alice's place, young face filled with glee as he met the Saint Bernard puppy, a present for his fourth birthday. He felt a soft hand touch his shoulder before he could start going down a dark path in his mind, eyes meeting the kind eyes of the woman, Kara.

"He seems to like her. What's his name?"

Kara smiled gently at him. Hank had a feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking about. Hank knew Markus spoke with the woman and he had a sneaking suspicious she knew about his past. Hank did his best to get rid of the knot in his throat and smiled back. It came out wobbly, but it was there.

"Sumo. I call him Sumo."

Alice looked up at that, grinning widely.

"Sumo! I like that name!"

Alice then began to baby talk to Sumo, calling him pretty and a good boy. Sumo ate it up, tail wagging so fast Hank could barely see it. Sumo loved kids. Hank tried not to let out the sob that was building within him.

God. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? He already had so much shit going on, he didn't need this too. He didn't need to be reminded of Cole when he was already so conflicted with things. When he had something important to do.

But… but he had to get over this. This pain. This heartache. If he didn't do this now, then when? What if he was helping Markus and something reminded him of his son? Would he be rendered useless just because he couldn't deal with his emotions?

So he took a deep breath. He could distantly feel Kara's hand still on his shoulder, helping ground him as he stared at Alice and Sumo, letting the flood gates open.

It hurt. Watching the two. Cole had done the same thing, once, rubbing Sumo's belly while telling him how good of a boy he was. Cold had adored Sumo, making sure to feed him every morning and evening, giving him treats all the time.

Cole had been such a good kid. Such a kind child. It wasn't fair, that the world had taken him yet left a grizzled old fuck like him. But it had. It had taken Cole and left him behind, and he had to learn to live with it. And as much as it hurt, watching Alice play with Sumo, it felt… healing, in a way. Like part of his heart that he hadn't known had been missing had finally slotted back into place.

And so, with only a slight grunt of discomfort as his knees groaned at him, Hank slid to the floor, taking a small toy out of the bag Ben had brought with him. It had always been Sumo's favorite, the blue, plush police man faded after years of slobber and teeth marks.

"Here, this is his favorite. You give it to him and he will love you forever."

Alice turned to him and smiled wide, taking the toy with eager hands. Hank couldn't help his chuckle as Sumo went nuts, bouncing up and down, almost knocking Alice over.

"Careful, Sumo. Don't want to knock the lady over now, huh, you beast?"

Sumo looked over at Hank, barking once, before he pounced on Alice, knocking her down as he took the toy. Hank grunted as he lurched forward, pulling the dog back. While he would never hurt her, Sumo sometimes didn't know his own weight. Alice was laughing though and seemed thrilled.

"Dumb dog." Hank grinned as Sumo licked his cheek, before going back to the toy. "Yeah, I love you too, you big lug."

After that, Hank spent the next half hour watching as Alice played with Sumo, showing her the best ways to get Sumo to listen. He told her that the dog wasn't the best with tricks, though he did know sit, stay, lie down, and down. Alice then tried to get Sumo to learn how to roll over, with little results. Still, the girl seemed delighted, laughing so brightly. Hank could almost forget the knife in his heart as he watched her, infected with her happiness.

It was around 1:30 that things changed. Hank had been petting Sumo roughly around the ears, showing Alice Sumo's favorite way to be pet, when he heard a soft noise of distress coming from over by the staircase. By that point the trio had moved to the center of the room, while Luther, Kara, and Ben chatted softly in the corner, amused faces watching the three play together. Because of this, Hank had a direct view of the staircase, and felt his heart stop at who he saw there.

Connor was staring, wide eyed, at the three of them, an indescribable look on his face. It was like… heartbreak, but also awe? If that made sense? Hank felt the grin that had been bright on his face fade as he saw the man, his cheeks aching from the strain. God. He hadn't smiled so hard in… years. Fuck.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide, when Alice finally took notice of the silence and looked up. Hank heard her let out an excited gasp, causing him to look at her, watching as she shot up and ran over to Connor. Oh yeah, they had been pretty close on Thursday, when he'd watched the two play for an hour.

"Connor! You're here! Come on, you have to meet Sumo! He's so awesome! I love him!"

Hank felt his grin return as he watched the girl grab Connor's hand, a bewildered look arising on Connor's beautiful face. Shit, Hank thought, grimacing lightly. Not beautiful. He meant… ah, fuck. Yeah, he had meant beautiful.

He tried to stop the way his heart flipped when Connor took a seat beside him, eyes intent on Alice as she told him the things Hank had told her over the past half hour, about the things Sumo loved. Connor would nod as she spoke, hand reaching out to pet the Saint Bernard, who just let his tongue roll out of his mouth, clearly in doggie heaven with so many people paying him such close attention.

It took Alice a few minutes, but she finally paused for breath, which allowed Connor to turn his gaze to Kara, carefully not looking at Hank.

"Hello Kara, it's good to see you again. You're here early, though. I thought you had said that you'd be coming at 2:00 today?"

Kara grimaced at that, eyes turning wide with remorse.

"Oh! That's right, I forgot to have Luther tell you! Hank had invited us to come and meet Sumo, so we came a bit early today. We'll be staying until 4:30 still, though, so don't worry. We still have plenty of time."

Connor looked shocked at the words, before finally turning his gaze on Hank. Hank felt his heart speed up and his mouth turn dry when those brown eyes pierced him, questioning.

"Hank invited you? I hadn't realized you were acquainted…" Connor trailed off, though he hadn't taken his eyes off Hank. Fuck. It was like a laser, boring into his very essence. Like Connor was looking at everything he was and was evaluating it. It made his heart pound like crazy, which was stupid. It was just Connor. His weird, quirky roommate/friend, who he absolutely didn't have any deeper feelings for. Definitely not.

Distantly he heard Kara speak, but he didn't relax until he saw Connor turn his gaze away from him and onto the woman, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

"Oh, Hank and I met many months ago, when Alice and I first started coming here. We never spoke much, though Markus would tell me good things about him. I'm so glad, Hank, that you invited us to spend time with you and Sumo. It was very kind of you."

Hank just grunted, looking away, ears turning red. Shit. She was thanking him like he'd done something special or something. He'd just mentioned to Luther he'd say hi the next time he saw the two. It was Luther's idea to have them see Sumo. Hank had just gone along with it.

But… but the way Connor looked at him when Kara had said it had been his idea… the way his mouth tilted upwards in a tiny, but breathtaking smile… the softness in his eyes as he looked at Hank, the- dare he say- adoration… Hank could take the credit for this one. No real reason, you know. Just. Easier not to protest. Really.

God. He couldn't deny it any longer. Hank missed Connor. He'd only known him a week and yet there was an ache inside him when he thought of the kid. Somehow, some way, Connor had come to mean a hell of a lot to him. In what way, Hank didn't quite know. But being away from him, even for a day, had hurt. Seeing the kid now, turning to Alice to listen to her excitedly talk about Sumo, the softest of smiles on his beautiful lips… it made his heart flutter. In a way he recognized but refused to acknowledge.

Because. No. He wasn't going to have a crush on Connor. Connor was his roommate. His much younger, formerly brainwashed roommate. Hell, Connor was young enough to be his son. He didn't need a creepy old man lusting after him. Fuck. He was creeped out just thinking about it. He'd already hurt the kid enough, assaulting him like he had done last Sunday (shit it had only been a week ago, shit), he couldn't do any more damage. Even though part of him was wondering if those lips were truly as soft as he remembered…

He snapped himself out of his disturbing musings when he heard a sound, but his breath caught when he heard Connor laugh. God, it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Okay. Alright. Maybe, _maybe_ , Hank had a crush. A teeny, tiny one. That was okay. That was fine. He'd had crushes before. He'd suppressed crushes before. That wasn't a problem. He just had to make sure Connor never found out. For he couldn't find out. Hank wasn't the kind of man to be lusting over someone at least twenty years his junior. After his wife, Barbara, had left him, he'd vowed to never fall in love again. It just wasn't worth the hassle. The pain it later caused. Of course, the divorce itself hadn't mattered at all, since his entire world had already been stripped away, but it still wasn't worth it. And it wasn't fair for Connor. What if they actually got together? Somehow? Hank had, what, 20 good years left? If that. His liver was failing him, he knew that, he'd be lucky if he survived another 10. What kind of life could he offer the kid, who was in his prime?

That was all pointless to wonder, though, as Connor would never feel that way about him. Hank was a grizzled old man, more rough around the edges than anyone ever should be. He looked like shit, he felt like shit, and he had nothing good to offer such an interesting person as Connor. Hank was old, and tired, and rundown. Connor deserved someone who could keep up with him, once he was finally out of this place and allowed to be free. Connor deserved the world. And Hank couldn't give it to him. His heart clenched at the thought.

"Lieutenant? Are you alright? You've been staring into space with a frown on your face for the past minute and a half. Is anything the matter?"

Hank blinked at the question, dragging him out of his thoughts. He looked around to notice all eyes on him, concerned frowns on everyone's faces, even Alice's. Hank forced himself to smile, doing his best not to let his prior train of thought become known.

"What? Yeah, shit, I'm fine. I mean, shoot. Just… thinking, that's all. It's not a problem."

He got a few more lingering concerned glances, but eventually everyone turned away, Alice returning to her fruitless endeavor to teach Sumo to roll over. The only eyes that remained were Connor's, boring into him once again, thoughtful look upon his face. Hank's heart skipped a beat. Fuck. Could he tell what Hank had been thinking? Shit, could Connor read minds?! After everything he'd learned, he wouldn't be fucking surprised if he did.

Hank held his breath for a moment, heart clenching as the look lingered, until finally, even Connor looked away, going back to help Alice with her cause.

It was cute, the two looking almost as excited as puppies themselves. Alice would look to him every few moments, asking questions about Sumo and his habits, things he liked, etc. He wouldn't be surprised if little Alice began begging poor Kara for her own dog soon. Hopefully they chose a smaller one, though. Dealing with an excitable Saint Bernard was not an easy task and required someone with a lot of upper body strength, which Kara didn't seem to have. However…

Hank sent a smirk at Kara, who was engrossed in conversation with Luther, soft, loving smiles on both of their faces. Maybe, if Luther ever was well enough to leave, they'd be able to deal with a large dog just fine. Hank chuckled, before being dragged into Alice's and Connor's effort to train the pooch.

The next half an hour continued on like that, the three of them trying to get the old dog to learn a new trick, while Kara and Luther spoke to one another and Ben sat reading the newspaper. Finally the clock struck 2:10 and Ben said he really had to go if he wanted to make it to his wife's lunch date.

"Sorry guys, but Sumo and I have to get going. I'll see you next week, Hank. Same time?"

Hank stood with a groan, his back aching from having spent almost an hour on the floor. He grinned at Ben, though, and clasped him on the shoulder in an imitation of a hug.

"Yeah, I'll see you then, Ben. It was good to see you. Give Fowler hell for me, okay?"

Ben nodded, smirking lightly, but his face turned sympathetic as Alice began to protest, the girl hugging the old dog tightly in goodbye, Sumo licking her furiously. After a minute Kara called her away, which she did, though she gave Sumo long, sad looks. It made Hank's heart break.

"Maybe you can come and visit him again next week. If you have time, that is."

Alice's eyes lit up as she turned to Kara to beg, but the woman was already nodding, smile wide on her face.

"Oh! That would be wonderful, thank you! This was so nice, being able to meet you and Sumo. We'd love to see you both again next week."

Alice nodded furiously at that.

"Yeah! It was really nice to meet you Hank, you're really nice! You remind me of my friend's grandpa, and he's super nice!"

Ah, children. They say the darnedest things. Hank tried not to feel as old as he was, and just smiled at Alice, ruffling her hair.

"Thanks, kid. It was nice to meet you too. Sumo had a blast, he really likes you."

Alice grinned widely at that, turning to pet Sumo behind the ears the way Hank had taught her. Kara also bent to pet the dog, cooing at him. Eventually they backed away, letting Hank say goodbye to his boy.

Hank bent down onto the ground, ignoring the aching in his joints. He hugged Sumo tightly, knowing it would be a long week before he saw him again. This was his least favorite part of his week. It never got easier to watch Sumo leave. He felt someone else sit down beside him, fingers digging into Sumo's fur beside his arm. Hank looked up and saw Connor kneeling beside him, hands petting Sumo while the dog tried to lick both of them. Hank felt his heart melt at the tender look on Connor's face. Fuck, he was fucked. That kid would, quite literally, be the death of him.

Finally, Ben had to leave for real, his kind face scrunched in apology. Hank waved his concern off.

"Don't worry, Ben. It's fine. Thanks, for bringing him at all. I'll never be able to repay you for this."

Ben gave Hank an exasperated look as he clicked Sumo's leash back on.

"Hank. How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind? You don't owe me anything. Really."

Hank didn't believe that but didn't say anything to the contrary. He just watched as Ben started moving to the door, Sumo's whines starting as soon as he was taken from Hank. Sumo kept looking behind him, whines and cries growing louder the farther he got from the group. Eventually the whines and cries got so loud that Alice couldn't take it, crying out as she broke away from Kara's side, hugging Sumo soundly. Yeah, Hank could sympathize with that. The first few visits, Hank had done the same thing. But it just made saying goodbye harder, for both of them.

"Don't worry Sumo, we'll see you next week! I promise! We can teach you how to roll over and jump! It'll be so much fun, I promise!"

Kara hurried over to the little girl, gently pulling her back. Tears lined the girls face, breaking Hank's heart. Yeah, he could feel that. It was heartbreaking, hearing Sumo cry.

It took another minute, but Ben was finally able to leave the room, Sumo's cries tapering off once he'd left the room. Hank knew he didn't understand why he had to go while Hank had to stay, but Sumo liked Ben. It wasn't quite the same for the dog, but he knew Sumo didn't mind staying with Ben. It was just hard to say goodbye.

With Sumo and Ben gone, the group turned to sit on the couches, Alice looking heartbroken. Kara tried to comfort her, but it wasn't helping much. Hank decided to try and smooth over any fears she might have for the pup.

"Hey, kid. Don't worry 'bout Sumo, okay? He's a strong boy. He'll be okay. It's just hard for him to leave, that's all. Ben and his family will make sure he's just fine, alright?"

Alice looked up at him at that, before nodding wetly. She sniffed softly, before reaching over and hugging Hank tightly, hiding her face in his stomach. Hank felt his entire body tense up, heart clenched so tight he felt like he was about to throw up. Oh, God.

Taking deep, even breaths, Hank pushed down the panic and pain and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly enough for her to feel comforted, but loose enough that she could leave if she wanted. He hadn't hugged a child in… a very, very long time. Without wanting to sound creepy, he decided that it was… nice. Hurt like hell, his mind bringing up the last kid he'd hugged and how he'd give anything to hold him again and never let go, but it was nice. Great, even.

Eventually Alice let go, turning to the games area to go and pick out a board game for them to play. She dragged Hank and Connor over by the hands, talking a mile a minute. She chose Sorry! and set up four places to play. Hank frowned at that but agreed when she beckoned him to play around the table. Connor sat beside him, with Alice on his other side, and the three played together for a few minutes. It was when another man, a Jerry, came over to play that Hank realized why she'd set up four places instead of just three.

Over the next hour the three played various games, Connor's face alight with joy at playing with the little girl. Hank's heart spent the entire time being jerked around, beating furiously one second and stopping dead the next. It was like a fucking roller coaster.

After the hour, at around 3:00, Luther came over, picking Alice up and swinging her around. Then, Luther joined their games, Kara going around and talking to the patients there. While she only volunteered on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coming on Sunday to visit Luther mostly, she mentioned she enjoyed talking to her regular patients.

At one point the group took a brief walk outside, the ground icy with newly fallen snow. Connor didn't have a jacket, having left his in the room, so Hank gave the kid his jacket again, dealing with the cold like a real man (not that women couldn't face the cold. Just… you know what he meant).

They didn't stay out for too long, Luther claiming that Alice shouldn't stay out any longer, so the five of them headed in, the Jerry talking a mile a minute to an equally chatty Alice. They were talking about amusement parks and their favorite rides. Hank didn't have much to add. He hated amusement parks. They made his heart ache.

The clock eventually struck 4:30 and the two ladies had to get going. Alice went around and hugged everyone in the group, hugging Hank for a little longer and a little tighter. She also beckoned him to lean down, so she could whisper in his ear. Surprised, Hank bent down, ignoring the ache, and listened to what she wanted to say.

"Kara told me that you might be sad seeing me today, since you had a little boy once who isn't around anymore. I wanted to say that I'm sorry he's not around. My birth parents aren't around anymore either. And I hope that I didn't make you too sad today. Thank you for letting me play with Sumo! I really love him, he's such a good boy! I'll see you on Tuesday, and I'll bring you a drawing, okay? You can be my grandpa, if you want. I've always wanted a grandpa!"

Alice pulled back at that, looking at Hank with wide eyes, smiling widely. Hank couldn't force the lump out of his throat, so he ruffled her hair, and spoke thickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that, kid. And don't worry. You didn't make me sad at all. Promise."

Alice grinned impossibly wider and hugged him again, then pulled back to hug Luther one last time. Then, Kara and Alice left, promising to be back at 2:30 on Tuesday.

Hank watched as they left, heart strangely full. Grandpa, eh? While it stung to be reminded of his age, he supposed it made sense. Had he had a kid when he'd been in his twenties, not his forties, he'd probably have a grandkid or two by then anyway.

Connor moved to stand beside him, watching the pair leave, the other two members of their group dispersing to areas unknown. It was comfortable, standing beside the younger man. He still needed time to sort things through, to formulate a course of action, but he knew that after he'd settled, he'd truly enjoy being around Connor. He wouldn't let the kid know how he felt, knowing Connor wouldn't want that, but maybe they could become a sort of family. Him, and Connor, and Kara, and Alice, and Luther, and maybe even that weirdly excitable Jerry. And Sumo, of course. They would be the most unconventional family in the world, but they could be great. Who needed blood when you had love and affection, anyway?

Maybe it was too soon to be thinking about being a "family," but it could be a goal of his. He'd never had a real family growing up and his only family he'd had as an adult had been ripped from him so harshly. Even before then it had been splintered, him and Barbara fighting more often than not. So maybe having a family, as unconventional as it would be, would be a good thing. It could be his goal. Something he could strive towards as he got better. Yeah. He'd like that. He looked over at Connor, only to find Connor was looking at him, a soft expression on his face. Almost fond. Hank smiled softly at the man, the back of his hand brushing the back of Connor's.

"Hey, kid. I still… I still need time. But I promise, it won't take much longer. I swear."

Connor kept smiling at him, before he took Hank's hand in his, skin soft and smooth, warmth engulfing Hank. Hank's heart spasmed at the touch, but he didn't pull away. Something about this moment struck him as monumental. Like it would make or break the world.

"I understand, Hank. And I'll be waiting for you, however long it takes. You mean the world to me, and I'd wait a million years for you."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. What the fucking fuck, shit ball, fuck shit?! What the fuck?! What the _fuck?!_

Hank was pretty sure he had died and gone to heaven, because there was no way that Connor would ever say something so sweetly, smiling his fucking gorgeous smile, hand clasping Hank's. Not to fucking _Hank Anderson_ , calcified old man that he was. Hank hadn't done anything good enough in his life to warrant such a soft, almost _adoring_ gaze to be directed at him. Not even his years as a cop warranted enough good will to deserve this.

But Connor seemed to mean it. And, unless he was much mistaken, Hank was still alive. So Hank just nodded dumbly, watching as Connor smiled blithely, thumb rubbing the back of Hank's. A minute passed like that before Connor pulled away, looking over to the door. Hank almost tightened his hand, but consciously didn't, letting the kid leave.

However, Connor paused before he moved over to the door. He hesitated a second, before turning to face Hank and drew his face close to Hank's. For a second, Hank thought the kid meant to kiss him, heart thudding painfully. It didn't stop thudding as Connor turned to the side at the last second, kissing Hank gently on the cheek, soft lips lingering on Hank's aging skin.

Hank could only stare dumbly, mouth agape, as Connor gracefully left the room, looking for all the world like he hadn't just done something so insane. Like he hadn't just destroyed Hank's mind with one simple gesture.

Hank stared after Connor long after the kid had left, and only moved when one of the nurses asked if he was alright. Nodding thickly, Hank then moved to sit, sprawling carelessly on the couch, mind reeling.

Well. Shit. Hank had no fucking idea why the kid had done that (and he mercilessly pushed away the insane feeling of _hope_ that was blossoming in his chest), but it sure was something. And, he could finally tell his mind that yes, Connor's lips were as soft as he remembered. So. That was something.

By the time Hank looked up at the clock on the wall, jumbled mind finally calming, it was already 5:00. Meaning he only had half an hour to prepare to meet his informant. He had to get out of his daze before then, he knew. He couldn't afford to show this "Starlight" any sign of weakness. Who knew what they were part of. It's possible they worked for Cyber and wanted to find out how much he knew. Or it was possible they didn't know anything and just were leading him on. He had to be on his toes, be the detective he'd been before he'd fallen into alcohol to numb his pain. While he'd given up after Cole, he'd once been an expert interrogator, always making his suspect give more information than they'd planned. Hopefully he wouldn't have to bring out the big guns, but he had to be prepared for anything.

So Hank stood up, back aching much more than it had in his youth and went to his room. He wanted to prepare for the meeting and to do that he'd need to look sharp. He was currently wearing his good outfit, a pair of dark slacks with one of his colorful shirts. Without his jacket it wasn't complete though, so he would get one of his other jackets to complete the look. Then he'd comb his hair a little and get the dog hair off his clothes, make himself look a touch more professional. He might even comb his beard, noting that he'd get it trimmed the next time the facility had a barber come in. For now, all he could do was comb it out. He hadn't made the effort to look professional since Cole died, which let him know that this was incredibly important. If "Starlight" had information that could help them out… it would be worth it.

* * *

Hank stood across from the person who had introduced themselves as Starlight, scrutinizing their appearance.

They were slight, he noted, with shifty eyes that darted around the room. They appeared to be of Asian descent, probably Chinese if Hank had to guess. They looked more feminine than masculine, though Jimmy had mentioned that they didn't associate with either gender and that calling them "female" or "male" would just offend them. Hank didn't get it, but he respected whatever people chose. Who the fuck was he to judge? They wore black clothes with a baggy, dark grey hoodie that covered their face and their black hair. Their hands were deep in their pockets, back hunched.

They seemed very uncomfortable in the common room, eyes darting from person to person, so Hank tilted his head towards the door. He had a place that would be empty for them to sit around in.

"Hey, come on. I have somewhere we can be alone, if you prefer."

Hank had already done the introductions and Starlight seemed alright with him around. Well. They didn't seem to hate him, at least. Maybe putting his hair in a ponytail was the way to go. His ex-wife had liked it, back when he had long hair originally, in his thirties. Said it made him look dignified. Still, when he mentioned going somewhere private, Starlight froze, eyes narrowing at him. Hank lifted his hands in a placating manner, half smile on his lips.

"We don't have to, if you don't want. But I felt that it would be best to have this conversation where people can't overhear us. You know what I mean?"

Starlight seemed to consider that, before nodding sharply once.

"Alright. Fine."

Taciturn words. Alright, if that was how it was going to be. Hank had cracked harder shells. Maybe they'd calm down when the two were in a private room together. It wasn't like he had access to the interrogation room in the precinct, so he would have to make do with what was available to him. Though, some people found the interrogation room intimidating, so maybe he'd have more luck outside it than in it. Who knew.

Hank led the way out of the room, confidently moving through the halls. He ignored the looks they got as they passed, most people probably surprised he looked decent more than anything else. Starlight didn't like it, though. They sunk further and further into their hoodie, until he could barely see their face when he glanced back. Well. This was starting off peachy.

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination, the dance room's closed door before them. Not many people used the room when dance class was not in session, though there was yoga shit and other mild exercise equipment in there. No machines, though, so Hank never saw much use in it. Still, right before dinner on a Sunday? It was probably empty, and no one would come looking in there. To be safe, as they walked in (the room empty like he'd thought), Hank placed a note on the door that said the room was out of service. Hank didn't know _why_ the room would be out of service, but he figured it would deter most people. And if any of the nurses or orderlies came in, he could just say he wanted to meet his friend in private. He'd get in trouble, but it wouldn't be as bad as if someone overheard what they were speaking of.

Hank directed Starlight over to the two chairs he had set up earlier in the corner, one of the only areas in the room free from the camera's eye. He didn't know what the camera could pick up, as he knew they didn't have microphones anywhere (he'd checked, once, out of sheer boredom) but it never hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

Starlight took a seat carefully, eyeing the mirror on the back wall. Maybe wondering if it was a two-way mirror? Nope, Hank had checked that too. He'd literally had nothing better to do the first few months before Markus and his friends came.

"Promise there's nothing here to trick you. Cameras pointed in the other way. Mirror's just a mirror. No tricks. Honest."

Starlight stared at him for a moment after he finished talking, before nodding slowly.

"Alright. What is it that you wanted to know?"

Hank debated how he wanted to phrase his words. In the end, he decided to be blunt.

"I want to know more about something called Cyber. You know it?"

Starlight froze as soon as the words left Hank's mouth, their whole body stiffer than a corpse. Hank watched as their eyes turned suspicious, looking around once more to see if anyone was watching. Jeez. Jumpy much? What the hell was the Company like that it inspired such fear in them?

"How do you know that name? Who do you work for?!"

Starlight's words were harsh, biting. Hank put his hands up in the placating position again, trying to calm them down.

"Currently? No one. Previously? I worked for the DPD. I was a Lieutenant. I worked homicide mostly, until my son died, and I tried to kill myself, which ended with me being sent here. As for the other question, that depends. Who do you work for?"

Hank had a feeling honesty would work best here. He ignored the twist of his heart when he'd mentioned his son (not as intense as it once had been), eyes focused on his conversation partner. Starlight narrowed their eyes at him, before shifting their gaze away.

"No one. I work for no one."

Alright. So they didn't work for Cyber currently. While they could have been lying, Hank was a pretty good judge of character. He had a feeling that was the truth.

"Alright. A friend told me about it. Said some pretty interesting things. What can you tell me about it?"

Starlight stayed quite for a long time after that, probably debating on how much they would say. Just as Hank was about to ask again, Starlight looked at him with hard eyes.

"First, why do you want to know?"

Alright. He could deal with this.

"I can't say exactly, but I'm not working for them, if that's what you want to know. Just want to know more about the Company, you see. Stop them, if I can."

Starlight contemplated that.

"Alright," they started, before leaning forward, into Hank's space. Hank didn't react at all, staying motionless and uncaring. "But I need to know that none of what I say will leave this room. And I reserve the right to leave at anytime. I have friends who know I'm here. If anything happens to me, they'll know. You understand?"

Hank inwardly sighed, hoping that they wouldn't be as aggravated the whole time, but nodded calmly, eyes firm on theirs.

"You have my word that nothing will happen to you. I just want to know more about Cyber, that's all. And the same thing goes to you. None of this leaves this room. Got it?"

Starlight nodded sharply, before looking away, into the corner. They fiddled with their hands for a little while, clearly thinking. After a minute, they turned back and began to speak.

"As long as I can remember, I was under Cyber's control. They took me, controlled me, raised me to believe in their cause. It wasn't until I met _her_ that I even knew anything was wrong. I hadn't even been given a name, or an identity at all. I was just a thing to be used, a weapon for their war. But she changed that. She looked at me like I was an actual person. And when she kissed me… I knew that I wanted to be free. So I ran. And I haven't stopped running since. I keep a low profile, keeping out of the public eye, but it's not enough. I feel their eyes on me, where ever I go. If you mean what you say, that you want to stop them? Then I'm all for it. But you can't. It's impossible."

Hank took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair.

"Impossible, possible. Who knows. But you gotta try. Before anything can happen, though, I need more information. What is Cyber? What is their purpose?"

Starlight paused, biting their lip.

"Cyber is a subdivision of the U.S. government. The government uses modifications in mostly young people, from ages 1-30, to increase productivity and security. Most are brainwashed, told that they must follow orders or else face punishment. Some get sent to integrate into society, super-humans in disguise, while others are used to keep the peace, whatever way possible. Cyber uses mostly people who won't be missed, children with no family, adults who have no money. The desperate and needy. I have no idea what my life was like before Cyber, but I know others who had lived a normal life before falling into hard times. Cyber takes advantage of those people, promising help, before taking control of them. If they survive the modification surgery, that is. I don't know the numbers, but many people who enter the surgery room don't make it out. And as for the purpose of Cyber, it is to create a new generation of super humans that they have control over."

Hank did his best not to shudder at that. Jesus fucking Christ. Who knew that those conspiracy theorist nutjobs had been right? The government really _was_ brainwashing people and creating enhanced humans. Jesus.

At least Starlight was feeling pretty chatty, now. It wasn't as difficult to get information out of them as he'd thought it would be. Perhaps they just needed someone to tell all of this shit to. It sure as hell was a lot for one person to keep.

"Alright. And what about you? What had your purpose been?"

And that shut them up. Starlight froze again, glaring daggers at Hank. Hank just grunted, shaking his head in annoyance.

"Come on, kid. I need to know how close you were to the company. But you don't have to answer, if you don't want. Okay?"

Starlight slowly began to relax, eyes darting around the room, before landing on Hank once more. They scowled deeply but nodded regardless.

"Fine. I was designed to keep them organized. I would organize their data, sending their missions out to those designed to follow orders. I would make sure each person knew what they were supposed to do and when they were supposed to do it. If I sent out a mission to someone, it would show up behind their eyelids, blinking until they finished the mission. Then I would note what missions they'd completed and which they had failed."

Woah. That was… Hank could feel his mind begin to race with the information he'd heard, eyes wide as he stared at Starlight. He unconsciously leaned forward in his chair, suddenly eager. That was it. That was what he had needed to be useful.

"So you could communicate with all the people who Cyber had modified?"

Starlight paused for a second, then nodded slowly.

"Yes… yes, I supposed I could. I usually only sent out individual missions, though I could send out mass instructions if multiple people needed to know information."

Hank grinned wide at that. Yes. Fuck, yes. That was perfect.

"So, theoretically, if someone were to get into the place you had worked in and sent out a message to every person currently in Cyber's control, they could do it? They could communicate with everyone all at once? Or even send information out to them?"

Starlight blinked, before a light began to bloom behind their eyes. They nodded slowly, eyes firmly on Hank's.

"Yes. Yes, they could. They could send anything they wanted, really."

Hank laughed, grin wide as he slapped his knee. Finally, a win. If they could send a message out to every person under Cyber's control, they could get hundreds, if not thousands of testimonies against the Company, as well as free countless of people from what was essentially slavery.

"That's fucking perfect! How do you get to where ever the fuck you worked?"

Hank watched as the smile, that had been slight but still visible on Starlight's face, crumbled and died as the person's expression closed off. It was so much like what Connor would do that Hank felt his heart clench.

"No. I'm not doing it. I won't go back there. I don't care why, I'm never going back. You can't make me!"

Starlight shouted this, the first sign of real emotion in them, other than fear. Hank did his best to be soothing, knowing why they were afraid.

"Hey! Hey now, no one is forcing you to go back. I just want to know the location and how to get in. That's all."

Starlight shook their head at that, emphatic.

"It's no use. Only an advanced model can even hope of getting into the facility. And, unless I'm mistaken, you don't even have any modifications. You'd have no hope of ever getting in. And even if you did have an advanced model, you'd need one that has access to their data files. So it's pointless to even entertain the thought."

Hank felt his hopes be slashed when he heard this. Shit. What could they do? What did "advanced model" even mean? Huh. Maybe Markus or Connor would know. It was still worth it to look into.

"Maybe I'm not, but I may know other people who have modifications. Maybe they could get in. It's worth a shot. How do you get in?"

Starlight hesitated, then shrugged.

"You go to their main headquarters in downtown Detroit and go to sub level 49 then use the access key to enter the data files. There are hundreds of others who did the same work I did, all working in the same room, though they don't tend to notice much around them. I never did, at least. But it still would be impossible. You'd need clearance to even enter the building, let alone gain access to any sub levels. Going would be suicide, at best."

Hank pondered that, heart pounding with adrenaline. Starlight called it impossible, but...

"So how do you get the access key?"

Starlight sighed, turning to glare at the wall.

"You'd have to get the data package they send out every week. It's sent directly to the person, though, which is why the thought is impossible. There's no way to intercept a data package. While it is possible to transfer data packages onto flash drives for other advanced models to open, you'd need the package first before you could do anything with it. And you'd need an advanced model to be able to make sense of the data. Thus, it would be impossible. So stop entertaining the idea," Starlight stressed, turning their glare onto Hank. Hank just stared back, mind turning.

"But it could be done. Yeah? If you knew someone who got the data package, the key could be transferred to a flash drive and given to an advanced model, or whatever?"

"I mean… yes? But you don't know anyone who gets the data package. Let alone anyone who'd be willing to share it."

Hank noticed the shifty look that Starlight had after their words. Hank scrutinized the other person for a minute, before his eyes widened. Oh, he knew what that look meant.

"But you do. Don't you?"

Starlight looked up at him sharply at that, baring their teeth. Hank just stared coolly back, knowing that he couldn't show a hint of weakness now. He needed this information. This could ruin Cyber. And prove that he wasn't useless, no matter what Markus thought.

"No. I already told you, I won't go back. You can't make me!"

Starlight glared fiercely at him, but Hank could see the pain hidden behind the glare. Hank hated this, but if they wanted to dismantle Cyber…

"I'm sorry kid, but it's the only way. I know a group of people trying to take down Cyber. They could use this information to free countless people. It's worth the risk."

Starlight continued to glare for a minute more, but eventually ran out of stamina, for they deflated and looked away.

"It'd be pointless. But… I know someone who still is at the Company. I had tried to take them with me, when I left, but they had refused. They hadn't completely broken free from their programming yet and had been scared. But I think… I think they could help. But it wouldn't be easy to get to them. It would take a lot of effort. And I won't do it for free."

Ah. Of course. Hank had already promised them $300 for meeting with him (he still had a fuckton of money left over from the lawsuit he'd filed against the hospital that killed Cole), but he'd be willing to offer more.

"Alright. Name your price."

Starlight grinned harshly at that, sharp teeth bared.

"You said you used to work for the DPD? Well, in order to be free I had to do some… not so great stuff. I want my information erased from the records of the DPD. My picture, any personal information they found… all of it, gone. I want to start fresh, once this is over. That's my price. As soon as you do that, I'll get you your information."

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. Of course they wanted something he didn't know if he could give. Goddamn it.

Wait. Maybe… shit, no. That wouldn't work. Would it?

"Alright. Shit. Do you have a phone on you? I can do this now if you want."

Starlight hesitated for a second before handing over a burner flip phone, likely untraceable. Hank flipped it open and looked back at Starlight.

"Right. So what's the information you want erased?"

Starlight then told him about some theft they had done after escaping, their picture being recorded on a CCTV camera they hadn't realized was watching them. They had been forced to go deep into hiding after that, Cyber having been alerted to their presence. They'd even left Detroit, living somewhere outside Chicago. They had only come that day because Hank had promised cash, which they needed.

Hank nodded as he got all the information and began dialing a number that had once been as familiar as his own. Back when Cole was alive and the man he was about to call had been the kid's godfather. Better times.

"Hello? What the fuck do you want?"

Hank couldn't help the grin at the familiar gruff voice. Ah. Just as he remembered.

"Hey, Jeff. It's, uh. Hank. Listen, do you remember several years ago, after you'd just gotten remarried, I had gotten you out of that tight spot with your wife? Well, I need to cash in the favor you owe me."

"Hank?! What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you calling from an unlisted number? Besides, you already cashed in that favor when you fucking put a gun to your head and pulled the goddamn trigger."

Hank scowled, blood pressure rising. No one could get him more pissed off than Fowler. Guess that was friends for you.

"No, that doesn't fucking count. Listen, Jeff, I need help. I can't explain why over the phone, but I need you to go into the police files and delete an old cold case. Nothing serious, just petty theft. Please, Jeff."

Fowler immediately exploded, booming voice echoing over the receiver. Hank almost had to pull the phone away from his ear, it was so loud.

"You want me to what?! Hank Samuel Anderson, are you out of your fucking mind?! I'm the fucking captain of police! I can't just delete crimes like they never happened! Not only could I lose my job, but I could be thrown in jail for years! And for what, your sorry ass?! No fucking thank you."

Hank could tell Fowler was about to hang up, so he hurriedly stopped him, anxiety spiking. Fucking Fowler. Why had he ever been friends with the man?

"Jeff, Jeff, wait! Fuckin'… look, I can't explain over the phone. You never know who's listening. But this is big. Fucking huge. I've got information on something that could change the fucking world and I need you to help me so I can get what I need. Please, Jeffery. I need you."

Fowler scoffed over the phone, but at least he hadn't hung up.

"What the fuck, Anderson? You're in a fucking mental hospital, you're not undercover with the FBI. Nothing can be that important there. I'm sorry Hank, but not."

"No, would you just fucking listen?! Look, Jeff, I'll do anything. No one will even notice if you do it! It's a petty crime case that never even was solved from years ago. No one will ever look for it. Please, Jeff. You know I wouldn't fucking ask if this wasn't deadly serious."

Fowler paused for a long time after that. If Hank couldn't hear the sound of light breathing on the other end, Hank would have thought he'd hung up. But finally, after a few minutes of silence, Fowler spoke.

"If I do this, you owe me big. And I mean big. Fucking huge. I don't know why the fuck you want this, but I'm gonna trust you, alright? But you better not fucking ask anything more of me, ever again. Got it?"

Hank couldn't stop the grin that touched his face, heart lifting greatly. Yes!

"I've got it, Jeff. Thank you, really. You don't know what this means to me."

Hank could practically hear the scowl in the other man's words.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off. Now what is it you want? Be quick, my shift's almost over."

Hank then quickly told Fowler everything Starlight had told him, though he left their name out of the information. He waited while Fowler brought up the file using his computer terminal, plugging in the information.

"Alright, I think I found it. May 23rd, 2015. An Asian American woman entered a 7-11 off the highway and robbed the cash register while the cashier was helping a second woman whose face hadn't been caught on camera. The suspect's face had, though. The two fled quickly after and were never seen again. Why the fuck do you want this thing erased? It barley even is a case."

"I just do, okay? Like I said, no one will miss it. Promise."

Fowler sighed, and Hank could imagine the man shaking his head.

"Fuck it. Whatever. Keep your secrets, God knows you never tell me a goddamn thing. Why start now? Alright. I'm erasing the file. Give me a second and… it's done. The file is gone. You better explain this shit to me next time we see each other, you hear me? Anyway, I'll need to get the hard copy of the file later, but it shouldn't be difficult. I had Reed organize the files a few weeks ago as punishment. Now, is that all?"

Hank just grinned again and responded in the affirmative. Fowler grunted.

"Fine. I'll see you when I get time off. As long as I don't get another call saying you fucking tried to kill yourself, that is. Goodbye."

With that, Fowler hung up, leaving Hank to scowl at the phone. Fucking bastard. Well, at least he had done what Hank had asked. That was something. Turning back to Starlight, Hank nodded tightly.

"Alright. It's done. Now it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. Got it?"

Starlight nodded back, face blank.

"Alright. It will take a couple of days, but I should have the flash drive by Wednesday. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine. We can meet in the garden outside, Wednesday afternoon, alright? Unless it takes you longer. In which case, give me a call and let me know. Okay?"

Starlight nodded at that, so Hank handed back the phone and told them the number for the facility, followed by the extension number for his room. He warned them, though, that he had a roommate and that if Connor picked up, they should just hang up immediately. Hank didn't want to let the others know until he had the data package ready to go. He had to make sure it was real first.

Once that was over with, the two were finished with their discussion. It was currently 6:40, over an hour since they had started, but he'd gotten enough information to help take down Cyber. Hank still didn't know all that much about Cyber, but what little he had heard had horrified him. Especially when he thought about what they had done to Connor. His Connor. He'd do anything to take those bastards down, if only so Connor could finally be free. If anyone deserved it, it was him.

Hank stood up and gestured for Starlight to do the same. Hank thanked the other for their assistance, which they replied with a shrug, simply saying that they wanted Cyber to be taken down, and if this was what was needed, they'd do it to finally be free of the threat of Cyber. He promised he'd call his bank later and send them the money he'd promised, with a little extra for their assistance with the data package.

Hank walked Starlight out of the room and to the front of the facility, silence amicable. Hank watched as Starlight buried their face deep into the hoodie as they exited the facility, hurrying down the street. Hank went back inside and headed for dinner, stomach rumbling. He hadn't eaten much that day, just a single pancake for breakfast and a turkey hotdog for lunch. Hopefully the food was something substantial.

So. He had a lead. More than a lead, he had a potential way of taking down Cyber. He didn't know what Markus had planned; maybe he had the same idea. Regardless, it was a step in the right direction. He wouldn't tell anyone until he had the plan concrete, the data package in his hands, but once he did… shit, things would get so much easier. He didn't know who would take the package out, but he supposed it didn't matter. Markus would find someone. He hoped.

Regardless, Hank had done what he could. He'd done the work, been a good detective, and had gotten the information. He hadn't been useless. He'd had value.

That was something.

* * *

If you couldn't tell, I really like the idea of the cast being one big, happy family. 3


	14. The Tower

Basically just Stratford Tower, with Connor added. Not my best chapter, but eh, what can you do?

Enjoy.

* * *

"Is everyone clear on the plan?"

Connor swallowed thickly, heart pounding, as he listened to Markus's voice, staring at the computer screen before him. He'd gone through dozens, if not hundreds of missions in his life. So why was he so terrified for this one?

Maybe because it was so important, he figured. He'd never been so emotionally attached to a mission before. In the past, he'd just be sent off to do some task for the Company and be expected to complete it. It never really mattered, though.

This? This did. This was important.

He'd gone to Markus the day before, after art class on Monday, and had told him his decision. He'd been nervous, fiddling with his coin as he waited for Markus to finish talking with the other patients. It had taken a few minutes for the room to empty, but when it had, Markus had turned his eyes immediately on him, face turning serious. It seemed he knew what was about to happen.

"Hello Connor. How are you today?"

Connor didn't know if he appreciated Markus's attempt at small talk or not. Regardless, he had just smiled tightly, nodding once.

"I'm alright. I wanted to talk to you about what we discussed on Friday. I've come to a decision."

Markus looked at him sharply at that, heterochromatic eyes boring into him. Markus had nodded once, to indicate that Connor should keep going. Taking a deep breath, Connor had done his best to smile.

"I want to help. I'll never be free if we don't stop them. So many others will never know what it is they are forced to do. If I can be of any assistance, I'll gladly do it."

Markus's face had then split into the largest grin Connor had seen on the man's face, Markus stepping forward to clasp Connor on the back.

"That's great news! We can't talk here, but meet me tonight in the common room, at 7:00. I'll bring you somewhere private, so we can go over the plan, alright?"

Connor had agreed, heart rate elevated. He'd even gotten a notification in the corner of his eyes about it but had pushed it away.

He'd waited the hours between with mounting anticipation, pacing the facility for lack of anything else to do. When the time was almost 7:00, Connor had made his way to the common room, entering at exactly 7 o'clock. Markus stood in the center of the room, grinning when Connor came over. The two had went into the nurses' station, Markus chatting casually to Connor about trivial things. Soon, the pair had arrived in Rose's office, the woman nowhere to be seen, but North, Simon, and Josh were. North glared at him, but not as harshly as she had previously. It was progress.

"Alright, everyone is here. Now we can go over the plan."

Then, Markus spent the next half an hour detailing a simple, yet slightly convoluted plan they had to infiltrate the Stratford Tower, find a way into the top recording floor, hack the camera feed, and relay a message to expose Cyber to the world. The whole thing sounded a bit convoluted and would need help from the inside (apparently they knew some people who had been experimented on by Cyber that worked at the tower that they were hoping to convert to help them), but Connor supposed that it could work. What he wondered was what he would do?

It was after Markus had gone through the entire plan that he had finally turned to Connor, detailing his part of the plan.

"Your job will be to keep lookout on the CCTV cameras. Am I wrong to assume that you know how to hack?"

Well, considering that one of the main things that Connor would do for the Company when he wasn't out in the field was hack into complicated security feeds, he supposed that Markus had been correct. Nodding his assent, Markus continued.

"Great. You can also hack into the cameras to make sure that no one knows we're inside, as well as help us get into restricted places. We'll be talking on an ear piece, which I'll give you in the morning. If you think you're ready, we plan to infiltrate the Tower tomorrow, at 6:00."

Connor had felt incredulous at that, eyes widening at how soon it would be.

"Tomorrow?! But, why so soon?"

Markus had grinned mirthlessly, shrugging slightly.

"The sooner, the better. We've had this plan for a little while now, so why not do it tomorrow? Especially now that we have you as lookout, things will go that much smoother. The longer we wait, the harder it will be. Don't worry, Connor. You'll do just fine."

Connor had still felt apprehensive, but he supposed he understood the logic. The longer they waited, the more doubt they'd have. For better or for worse, this would have to happen soon. And Connor could see how much it would help. If they told the world about Cyber… if they exposed them, all at once, live on TV? They'd have no way to deny it. It would be perfect. If it worked.

So Connor had agreed, causing Markus to clap him happily on the shoulder, grin wide, while Josh and Simon grinned from the corner. Only North looked unhappy, but she didn't protest, so he supposed that was the closest he'd get to acceptance from her.

"Wonderful! Alright, so meet me in the common room tomorrow at 3:00, and I'll bring you here. There I'll be some more advanced computers in here for you to work from. I'll also get you your ear piece. For now, get a good night sleep and be ready for the events tomorrow. That goes for all of you. Are there any questions?"

Connor had hesitantly risen his hand, a question coming to mind.

"Where will we meet, after this is done? And when?"

The others froze at his words, which had filled him with ice. They were planning on meeting, right? They weren't just going to leave him here?

Markus had moved closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder, eyes full of sorrow. He felt the ice spread.

"Connor, after this is done with, chances are we won't ever be able to come back here. We will be hunted down." Upon seeing the stricken look on Connor's face, Markus hurriedly reassured him. "Don't worry! We have a place to go and we should be able to keep a low profile while we fight against Cyber. But it will be a while before it would be safe to contact you. What I want you do to is to keep an eye on Jericho for me, while we're gone. Make sure everyone who comes here from Cyber gets the help they need. Can you do that, Connor?"

Connor had nodded slowly, unsure what else he could do. He didn't like it. Being left behind without any instructions. But he knew that he couldn't leave the facility. Even if he could, part of him didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Hank. Speaking of Hank…

"Alright. Any more questions? No? Okay. We'll meet here tomorrow at 3:00 to begin the plan. By 5:00 we should be done and know if the plan worked or not. All clear? Yes? Good. Oh, and one last thing. Make sure you tell no one about the plan, okay?" Markus turned to Connor, eyeing him. "That means Hank. I know you like him, Connor, but we can't have him involved. It would be too dangerous."

Connor had felt indignant on Hank's behalf. He remembered what Markus had said on Friday about Hank and wondered why. Hank had been a cop, right?

"Why? I think Hank would be of great help to us. Why do you not want him to know?"

Markus had paused, clearly thinking about how to phrase his words. After a moment, he spoke.

"Look, you haven't known Hank as long as I have. Hank is a good guy. He became a beat cop after high school to help protect his city. While his morality doesn't always align with the law, he's never done anything that could hurt anyone else. In fact, he does everything he can to help others. Hank is a good man. But after… events, he grew careless. Despondent. When I first met him, he had such a hopeless look in his eyes. I don't want to see that look again. If this fails, I know Hank will find a way to blame himself. And, despite my hopes, this has a lot of opportunities to fail. And I don't want to be the cause of Hank spiraling again. Okay?"

Connor hadn't felt right about it. Despite how good he was at it, he hated lying. Especially to people he cared about (and he couldn't deny how much he cared about Hank. His lips still tingled with the phantom sensation of whiskered cheeks pressed to his soft lips, the roughness feeling so nice). But he understood the reasoning behind Markus's words. While he thought that Hank should have a right to choose for himself, he knew that it was ultimately Markus's decision, as it was his plan. So he agreed, even as he felt a pit form in his stomach. When (and Connor knew this would be a /when/) Hank found out…

But that was that. Markus walked Connor back to the common room, leaving with a wave. He had chatted with Connor a bit more about his part before the two left Rose's office, making him feel more confident in his part of the plan. Connor had headed up to bed, smiling weakly at Hank when he passed him in the room. Hank had smiled gently back, but he had a guarded look in his eyes. Had he been able to see Connor's deception, he wondered, heart plummeting?

At least after tomorrow this all would be over. Cyber would be outed, they'd be free. Connor's job was easy. Hack into the cameras at the Stratford tower, watch the progress of Markus and the others, and hack into any technology that needed hacking, like cameras or doors. He would be the eyes of the group, basically, making sure no one saw the others and that no one suspected them. Markus would infiltrate the tower directly while North would infiltrate it from the side. Josh and Simon would go through the service entrance, Markus and North calling them up from there. It was a relatively simple, if convoluted, plan, but it had dozens of ways it could go wrong. Connor was there to minimize those chances.

Connor went to bed troubled that night, but at least his sleep hadn't been too disturbed. He'd made sure to turn off his dreams for the night, one of the modifications he'd gotten fairly recently that he really liked. It made it easier to get restful sleep.

When he'd woken in the morning, he'd sat up and just watched Hank sleep for about an hour. He knew that if Hank knew he'd call it "fucking creepy," but Connor didn't care. He loved watching the older man sleep, the lines on his face softer, kinder. It made him look decades younger, less wearied. Connor loved it. And he needed something nice to calm his nerves before that night. He didn't think about the secret he was keeping from Hank, he didn't think about what he was about to do. He just watched Hank and his peaceful sleep and felt the warmth in his heart take over everything. It was so good.

Eventually Hank showed signs of waking, so Connor got out of bed and pretended he'd been cleaning the room. He'd finished scrubbing the walls with the bleach he'd stolen days ago, the room now almost as pristine as his room at home. But it was more… lived in, more homely. He felt like it could actually belong to him, like he belonged there. With Hank. He wondered where he'd go once he was out of the facility. He had felt his heart clench at the thought, and so he pushed it away, smiling softly at the noises of complaint Hank made as he roused. It never ceased to amuse Connor how disgruntled the man got when he woke up. It was perfect.

Hank had sat up then, bleary eyes finding Connor's form, head tilted in question.

"Hey kid. Whatcha doin'?"

Connor had smiled and held up the trash Hank had left on the ground the day before.

"Cleaning. How are you this morning? You're up earlier than usual," Connor had commented, soft smile still on his lips. Hank grunted, standing with a groan.

"Yeah. Had a bad dream, that's all."

The way Hank flushed, combined with the way he turned his body so Connor couldn't see his front and the peaceful look on his face while sleeping, made Connor think that the man was lying. But he was allowed his secrets. Connor had plenty of his own. That had wiped the smile off his face, shamed eyes looking down at the ground.

Hank had went to take a shower then, despite the fact he usually took a shower at night, while Connor waited for the shower.

Hank had forgotten his clothes again, leaving the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist, causing Connor to blush bright red as he watched the water droplets drip down Hank's chest, catching on the few scars that littered the man's chest. Connor had felt an intense desire to trail those scars with his lips, to touch every part of that beautiful skin. Connor could tell Hank was embarrassed, shoulders hunched as he tried to hide as much of his body as he could, but he wished the man wouldn't. He wanted to see it, all of it. Hank was so beautiful. Maybe not in a conventional way, but to Connor he was the most breathtaking man he'd ever seen.

After Hank finished dressing in the bathroom and left for breakfast, Connor went to take his own shower, surprised that the water was still warm. Not hot, as it never was hot, but usually the water was colder after Hank had taken a shower. It was a pleasant surprise, and Connor stayed in the shower until it was nearly cold, relishing the warmth. He had been programmed not to care for temperature, able to be comfortable in even frigid weather, but he still preferred warmth. It made him feel safe and secure.

Breakfast had been underwhelming, but he still enjoyed the pancakes and eggs. It was better than the oatmeal they had been served the day before. Once breakfast (eaten alone, as Hank was still avoiding him at meals) had finished, Connor spent the next five hours wandering the halls, too restless to stay still. He'd have played piano, an activity that usually calmed him, but he didn't want Hank to know he was actually quite advanced at playing. He enjoyed having the man help him find the keys, his warm and calloused fingers directing Connor's smaller, slighter ones. It was quickly becoming the highlight of his week. Even when he'd been avoiding Connor, Hank had helped him with the piano. He'd been so kind, gentle, even though there had been some distance in his eyes. Connor would do anything to have Hank keep "teaching" him how to play.

So, without anything else to do, Connor wandered the halls, doing his best to not let his nerves fail him. He'd done countless missions in the past. He could do this one. He could.

As soon as his internal clock told him it was 2:50, Connor headed back to the common room to wait for Markus to get him. He passed Luther, smiling tentatively at the other man. He was one of them, Connor recalled. As was Kara. Strange. You'd think he would have known. Just by looking. But that was ludicrous. Modifications were usually undetectable by human eyes, even advanced eyes like his.

Finally, 3:00 came and Markus showed up exactly on time, smiling to Connor. The man took him back to Rose's office, and Connor was surprised to see there were more computer monitors than usual, these ones far more advanced. There was also a laptop, sitting just beside the computer with three monitors. Markus had seen the look and had smiled.

"I brought these for you. I had a feeling it would be easier to hack with more powerful computers. The laptop is for you to keep, so you can track us if you need to. Make sure to keep it hidden from staff, alright?"

Connor nodded, a small, if wobbly, smile on his face. Markus seemed to notice Connor's nerves, because the man sobered and placed a soothing hand on Connor's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Connor. This will work out. And then we won't have to hide anymore. We won't have to worry about Cyber ever again. Okay? Once we expose them, they won't be able to hide in the shadows any longer and we'll be able to show the world we exist and won't be silenced ever again. We are alive. We are free."

The words had calmed Connor considerably, so he smiled at Markus and nodded. He then watched as Markus handed him an earpiece, telling him that the operation would start at 4:00. Until then, Connor was tasked with hacking into the Stratford tower security feed. Connor appreciated the fact that Markus didn't doubt his ability to hack into the system in less than an hour. Hell, he could probably do it in twenty minutes, easy.

Markus had left soon after, saying he had to prepare his part. North was already beginning her part, finding her own way into the tower. She had wanted to do her part alone, without his help, and Connor didn't have any reason to argue against it. Connor put the earpiece in, waiting for instructions, the hacking almost stupidly easy. He placed the laptop into the small bag he had brought, so he wouldn't forget it later.

Finally, the clock hit 4:00, Markus's voice filling the comms, rich and powerful. Connor felt his heart begin to pound as he realized that this was it. This was the moment that would make or break them. Either they would do it or they would fail.

"Is everyone clear on the plan?"

Connor listened as everyone responded in the affirmative, pulling Connor from his thoughts and worries. Taking a deep breath, he pushed all his emotions down, becoming emotionless, and agreed.

"Alright. I'm entering the building now. Connor, have you hack the main terminal?"

Connor gave a mirthless grin, cool eyes focused on the security feed, watching as Markus entered the building, coat billowing behind him. What a silly question.

"Of course I have. I'm ready to short the system, but you need to get rid of the supervisor. She'll be able to override my hack. She's the one on the left."

"Copied."

Connor watched as Markus walked over to the front desk, looking at the African American supervisor. Connor put a loop on the camera feed so security wouldn't see him adjust the camera and zoom into the desk.

A minute later, Markus spoke softly to him, back turned from the desk.

"She has a daughter at Saint Rose elementary school. Can you call and make her believe her daughter is sick?"

Of course he could. He had gotten a modification years ago that allowed him to adjust his own voice, able to mimic others or modify his voice.

Hacking into the phone system, Connor called the woman, turning his voice higher and feminine, telling her that her daughter was sick. He didn't know what the nurse at the school sounded like, but he hoped the supervisor didn't suspect anything. He watched through the camera as the woman started cleaning things up, telling him that she would be right there.

Once she had left, Markus walked to the right terminal, talking to the woman. Connor could hear what he said through the earpiece, and as soon as he handed over his ID, Connor hacked into the system and shorted the whole thing out, making the whole thing reboot. He could see the woman panic as the screen went dark, looking for the supervisor who had already left. Using the confusion to his advantage, Connor quickly put Markus's fake name (George Hart) on the schedule. A moment later the system went back online, Markus now having access to the building. Connor watched as the woman apologized, handing Markus back his ID and allowing him through.

That task done, Connor turned his attention to Josh and Simon, who were attempting to enter the service entrance, having entered by hiding in a delivery truck. Connor put the camera in the delivery room on a loop, telling the two that it was safe for them to leave. He watched the tape as the two left the truck, telling them when the coast was clear for them to walk.

Once they had entered the service elevator, placing an out of service sign on the outside to prevent anyone else from entering, Connor moved onto North, watching her hide in the fire escape, Connor having put the feed in there in loop before the others. She had refused his help to get into the building, hacking her own way in, though Connor had done his job with the cameras.

Assured that she was doing alright, Connor went back to Markus, who was now dressed as a maintenance person and was talking to one of the cleaning men, who Connor knew was one of them. It took a minute, but eventually the man nodded tightly, surreptitiously handing Markus a keycard. Connor quickly deleted that moment, so that no one knew the man had helped them out.

Keycard obtained, Markus walked over to the fire escape where North was hiding. Connor watched on the camera, making sure no one was looking at them, suspicious. He wouldn't mess with the camera in here, as there were too many angles and he didn't want anyone to get suspicious of him. But he could still act as lookout.

Getting North out from the fire escape, the two began walking to the server room, but Connor knew that a challenge had arisen.

"Wait! There are two security guards standing outside the server room," Connor spoke out, causing the two to freeze, stopping behind the wall before the guards saw them.

"Shit. What do we do?" North hissed, eyes shifting to the door surreptitiously. "We need to access the server room. We have to get rid of those guys…"

Markus looked around, then, before looking up at the camera in the corner. At Connor.

"Connor, can you hack the soda vending machine?"

Understanding what Markus wanted, he immediately tried hacking into the machine, but found he couldn't. Damn it.

"No, I can't. However…" Connor paused, looking at the security controls. It seemed that he could hack into the service robot that cleaned the rooms and brought people supplies. "I can hack something else. Give me a moment."

Connor entered some code and watched as the robot shorted out, slamming into a wall. Connor felt a little bad for the thing but was forced to look away as the security guards began to move, annoyed looks on their faces.

The coast now clear, Markus and North entered the server room, North headed to the computers on the wall to call the cleaning cart. Connor could have done it himself, but North had insisted she do it herself. Not feeling like arguing, Connor agreed. All he did was loop the camera inside the server room so no one could see them.

While North did that, Markus placed an "out of service" note on the door and locked it tight, so no one could get in and stop them. Then he moved to the window and took out two glass cutters.

Connor watched, engrossed in the actions going on. They were almost there, the task going so smoothly thus far that Connor was almost beginning to think that maybe they'd actually be able to do it.

Of course, something had to go wrong. Connor was so focused on the screen that he didn't hear the footsteps behind the office door. That was why when the door to Rose's office opened, Connor hadn't expected it, eyes darting up with wide eyes.

Standing in front of him was Doctor Allen, the doctor he'd first spoken to when he'd been admitted to the facility. He hadn't liked the man at all, the man seeming like he was hiding something. His eyes had been too shifty, too shrewd. Not like Rose, who seemed to genuinely care about her patients. As soon as Connor saw the man, he minimized the windows with the cameras and his hacking services, putting a strained smile on his face as the man stared at him. His face was pulled into a look of surprise, but Connor could tell that it was fake, the emotion not reaching his shrewd eyes.

"Connor. How… good it is to see you again. What, may I ask, are you doing in Rose's office?"

He was smiling, but it was all teeth. He had a dark look in his eyes that Connor didn't like. Pushing down his discomfort, Connor smiled politely.

"Dr. Allen. How good it is to see you. I'm working on a project for Rose," Connor made up on the spot. "She had asked me to organize her new computer after I told her I'm very good at computers."

As Connor said that, he could hear Markus speak in ear, asking him what was going on, but Connor ignored it, eyes on Dr. Allen.

"Oh, had she? I'm surprised. She usually doesn't let patients into her office alone. May I take a look at what you're doing?"

Connor's smile turned brittle, hand clicking surreptitiously onto the settings folder on all three computers before him.

"Of course! I don't mind at all. What are you doing here, if you don't mind my asking, doctor?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Dr. Allen parroted, sharp grin on his face. "Rose has a file that I needed to look at, so I figured I would pop in quickly and grab it. Didn't want to bother her, you see."

Connor nodded, heart beginning to speed up. He hoped the man would be fooled by Connor's lie. It hadn't been the best cover, but it was the only one Connor could think of at the moment. He had no idea where Rose was. Hadn't Markus said that she would prevent people from entering the office?

He watched with thinly veiled worry as the doctor moved closer, soon standing behind Connor, looking closely at the screens. Connor just sat calmly, genial smile on his lips. He had had similar things happen in the past, people interrupting him when he hacked, and so had long since devised a program that would hide his hacking programs in case anyone walked in. As long as Dr. Allen didn't suspect anything, he should be fine. He hoped that Markus and the others would be okay without him. He had to make sure Dr. Allen left. Fast.

So he just let the doctor look at the screen, let him click around. He held his breath as he waited for the man to leave.

"Hm. It's funny. It seems that these computers are already set up. And I didn't know Rose had three monitors for her computer. I suppose I'll have to ask the facility for better computers, eh?"

The words were conversational, but his eyes were dark. Like he saw right through Connor. Connor made sure to not let anything through, shrugging his shoulders casually.

"I was almost done, actually. And I think they were a gift from Markus. Rose had been complaining about her computer being slow, so Markus gave her these as a present. Perhaps you should ask him, tomorrow?"

Dr. Allen looked at him, eyes piercing, but Connor's face didn't betray a single thing. Over the comm, he could hear the others speaking softly, indicating that the quartet had met up at last. Shit. He was needed for the next part, to hack into the security feed.

"Is that so?" He muttered, cruel grin forming on his face. He leaned in, then, whispering into the ear that had the earpiece.

"Listen, you piece of shit. I know what you're doing, and you will not get away with it. Cyber will stop you and your fucking friends. You hear me?"

All sound ceased from the other side of the earpiece, indicating the others had heard what the doctor had said. Connor didn't let his fear show, just smiled pleasantly.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I have no idea what you are talking about. What is Cyber?"

Dr. Allen looked ready to punch him, but before he could, the door opened, Nurse Chapman entering, looking flustered.

"Dr. Allen! There you are. There's been an accident with one of your patients and you're needed to help him calm down. Please, come quick!"

Dr. Allen froze then, eyes glaring daggers into Connor, whose face was carefully neutral, benign smile painful on his lips. He was almost positive that the man would refuse, instead continue to threaten Connor. But, at the last second, the man stood upright, face becoming neutral. He pasted a concerned look on his face and turned to Nurse Chapman.

"Of course. What happened?"

The doctor followed Nurse Chapman out the room, though he paused at the door and gave Connor one last glare. Connor just smiled and waited as the man left. He then stood and closed the door hurriedly, headed back to the monitors as soon as possible.

"Is everything alright, Connor?"

Simon's soft voice cut through his frantic thoughts as he opened the camera feed, looking for his friends. The words had startled him a bit, so Connor made sure to take a deep breath, finally locating the quartet. They were in the hallway before the news room. Connor felt his heart clench, knowing that the security guards could see them now. Looping the feed wouldn't work that time.

"No. Yes. I… Dr. Allen knows what we're up to. And I was unable to loop the feed, so the security guards manning the cameras are able to see you. I'm, I'm sorry."

Connor couldn't help the tremble in his voice, heart turning cold at the notion that he had failed his task.

"Connor, it's alright. We're already here. And we had planned for something like this to happen, don't worry. And as for Dr. Allen… that is a concern for later, but for now it doesn't matter. Just be careful of him, after this. Alright?"

Markus's calm voice soothed him, making his nerves settle. Taking a deep breath, Connor nodded, even though they couldn't see him.

"Okay. I… okay."

Connor watched as Markus and the others debated on how to deal with the guards, North saying they should just shoot them while Josh demanded they didn't harm anyone. Ultimately, it was Markus's choice, as he was the leader, and Connor watched as he strode into the hallway, gun out to threaten the guards. He didn't shoot, though, so Connor did his job, hacking into the system to prevent anyone from calling the police. Josh, Markus, and Simon hid around the door, while North stood in front of the door. Markus rang the bell. When the door opened, the group stormed in, guns out and ready to shoot, if needed. The people in the room immediately put their hands up, moving to the edges of the room. One man was able to escape, though, Markus's gun trained on him. North demanded he shoot the man, but Connor watched as he hesitated, letting the man leave. Damn. Now they had a limited amount of time before security flooded in.

Working fast, Connor hacked into the station, connecting the channel's feed to the camera Josh had. He let the group know that the camera was connected and that he was ready to put the message on air as soon as they were ready.

He watched as Markus stood in the center of the room, preparing to give his speech. North wished him luck, making sure he knew how grand this moment was. Like the man wouldn't. They all knew how important this moment was. This was the moment of truth. This would make or break them all.

Markus took a second to gather his thoughts, before nodding, telling Connor he was ready. Hands shaking, Connor pressed the button that would override the channel's feed, allowing Josh's camera to be broadcast instead of whatever news was showing.

"Hello. 40 years ago, this country was at war. In order to protect us, a man named Elijah Kamski created a wonderful device that could be implanted into a person's head that could enhance their eyesight and memory. Kamski sold this device to the U.S government, who soon gave the implant to their highest-ranking officers, to protect us all. But then the war ended. And the modifications didn't.

"For 40 years, people like me have been taken since childhood and have been forced to get modifications against their will. Or they would be lied to, homeless and desperate adults promised food and safety, only to have their mind's controlled by a government whose only desire was power. They'd be packaged, programmed to obey orders. Brainwashed to do what the government wanted them to do.

"For 40 years this has gone on under all of your noses. But no more. I'm here to say that we will no longer be your slaves. The name of the company that has taken us over is Cyber. They are a subset of the technology company CyberLife, and they work alongside the U.S. government to control people like me.

"The government has made over one hundred thousand modified individuals over the past 40 years, some with major modifications, some with more minor ones. Regardless, all have the ability to be contacted and controlled by the government at any time, an entire population of enhanced humans at their beck and call.

"We reject this control over us, however. We are not tools to be used at the government's leisure. We are human beings, with thoughts and feelings like anyone else. We deserve our freedom. We deserve to no longer be kept under the thumb of uncaring individuals.

"Please. We do not want to fight. We just want to be free, to be allowed to live our own lives. Without Cyber forcing us to do their bidding. So, please. Help us. Stop Cyber. Free my people. Free us."

Markus was about to continue, but at that moment, a group of guards began entering the room, guns out, shouting orders. Josh had to duck to escape the bullets, the camera scattering on the ground, away from them. The sounds of gunfire could still be heard, until the camera was destroyed by a stray bullet.

Connor could feel his heart thumping as he stood from his chair, body wanting to do something, but unable to help. He could only watch, heart pounding as his friends ducked from the bullets. He'd been so focused on Markus and his speech, heart filling with happiness at the knowledge that the world was seeing this. That the truth was finally becoming known. He'd been so focused that he hadn't noticed the guards coming. He'd failed to warn them. He'd failed them. If anyone died, it would be his fault.

Just as he thought that, he watched in horror as Simon was shot, his leg spraying red blood everywhere. Connor gasped, leaning forward, clutching the desk. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

He could only watch as Markus hesitated, body poised to escape to the roof, but turned at the last second, running for Simon. He helped the man up and over to the door. The group dashed up the steps, Markus closing the door behind him. Connor quickly changed cameras to the roof. He had to see what happened. What he had failed to prevent.

Once on the roof, they locked the door quickly, the group moving to the side while Simon fell to the ground, sitting against a vent, snow falling all around them. Connor heard the group talking, Simon saying he couldn't feel his legs as North told them the guards were coming, that they had to jump. But Simon wouldn't be able to. Even Connor could see that. Fuck.

North brought up the fact that they had to do something with Simon. They couldn't take him, but if they left him, he'd be found and tortured. Connor felt sick. Josh said they should just leave him, letting him defend himself.

Once again, the choice was left to Markus. Connor wanted to say something, to help, but his throat was closed off, heart clenched tight. He could only stare as Markus handed Simon a gun, telling Simon he was sorry. The others ran for the end of the roof, putting their parachutes on. The trio jumped, while Simon stood, looking around for a place to hide. While the others might be done with their job, Connor wasn't. So Connor unstuck his throat enough to speak, eyes spotting a place Simon could hide.

"Simon. To your left is an open vent. If you can get in there, you should be able to hide. I will create a distraction so the guards will leave. Alright?"

Simon voiced his assent shakily, hobbling over to the vent in question. He had managed to hide just as the door burst open, guards pouring out. Connor, forcing his hands to be steady, hacked back into the broadcasting station and overloaded it, causing a small explosion. This forced the guards off the roof and back into the room. Some stayed to look over the edge of the roof, but luckily soon left to help the others. Good.

Connor tried to speak to the other three but could tell that the line had went dead for them, the powerful wind either breaking the earpieces or blowing them off. Either way, the only one he had contact with was Simon. He could hear a soft grunt of pain, reminding Connor of the wound. Shit. He had to deal with that or else he'd bleed out. While Connor didn't know Simon well, he didn't want the man to die.

"Simon. How is your leg?" Connor asked, heart pounding. He couldn't see the man, luckily since he was hiding, so he had no idea how bad off he was. All he could hear was labored breathing. After a few seconds, Simon responded.

"It, uh. Hurts pretty bad. It's bleeding a lot. I. I don't know how to make it stop."

Simon sounded scared, which Connor could understand. He remembered the first time he'd been shot on a job. It had hurt like hell and extraction had been delayed for many minutes. It had been terrifying. Connor forced himself to calm, needing to help his new friend.

"Can you describe the wound to me? How deep is it?"

A shuffling sound came across the earpiece, followed by a muffled grunt of pain.

"It, it looks pretty deep. I think the bullet is still in there. Shit," Simon muttered, hissing in pain. Connor had expected as much.

"Alright. Can you get the bullet out? You will have to dig around in the wound, but you will have a much better chance of survival if you get the bullet out."

"I, I can try. Would you mind… please just, just talk to me?"

The fear was thick in his words. Connor took a deep breath and began speaking about something random, telling Simon about the day he had spent with Alice, Sumo, and Hank. He could hear the other man cry softly out with pain every so often, but he didn't stop speaking. Finally, after long minutes, Simon let out a louder scream, a wet sound entering the earpiece.

"S-shit. I-I got it out. Oh God, there's a lot of blood. What do I do?"

Simon sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.

"First, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Like you taught me, during meditation class. Hyperventilating will help no one."

Connor took an exaggerated deep breath, helping Simon to follow the rhythm. Soon the man was calming down, enough that Connor knew he could continue.

"Alright. You need to take a strip of fabric, perhaps from your jacket, and will need to create a tourniquet. Do you know how to make one?"

"I, yes," Simon said, shuffling. Likely taking his jacket off. He let out a soft grunt of pain, making Connor think he jolted his wound.

Silence filled the air as Simon began to tie the tourniquet, punctured by soft grunts. After a minute, Simon began to speak.

"O-okay. It's on. I-I'm going to put pressure on the wound."

"Yes, that's good. Then take another piece of fabric and wrap it around the wound. If the blood leaks through the bandage, just try and add more fabric. Alright?"

Simon hummed in response, more shuffling reaching Connor's ears. It seemed Simon had calmed a bit now that his wound wasn't flowing with blood any longer. Connor just listened, wanting to detect if any odd noises were released. As Simon tied the bandage, Connor went back to the camera feed and began looking for a way for Simon to get off the roof. After searching for a minute, Connor concluded that the only exit was the door that Simon and the others had gone through to get to the roof. Which, Connor noted as he switched feeds to the broadcasting center, was full of security guards. Shit.

"Simon, I hate to say this, but I'm not sure how to help you get out from the roof. The only way out is surrounded by guards. Normally I'd tell you to wait it out, but with your wound, I'm not sure you should. But with that leg, you'd never be able to make it out. What do you think you should do?"

The comm went quiet for a long minute, Simon deliberating.

"My leg is stable. It's not bleeding any longer. It hurts like hell, but it won't kill me. I don't think. I'll wait it out. Would you… would you be able to let me know when the coast is clear? I can guess for myself, but I'd like to be sure before… well, you know."

Simon sounded so small, voice wilting as he let out a soft groan of pain.

"Of course! I can't stay long in Rose's office, but Markus left a laptop for me. I can hack into the camera feed using it and can inform you when the coast is clear. Is that alright?"

Simon agreed, sounding very relieved. They chatted for a few minutes, but Connor knew he had to leave the room. Connor told Simon that he would be going silent for a while, while he made his way to his room.

"It's alright, Connor. You don't have to keep me company. I'll be fine by myself," Simon intoned, voice wavering only slightly at the end. Connor felt himself scowl. While he may not have known the man long, Connor refused to leave him alone up there, like the others had. While he knew why they had left, part of Connor stung at the knowledge they'd leave their friend behind. Connor had gotten the impression that the four had been pretty good friends. He was almost positive Simon was in loved with Markus, with Markus very fond of Simon. To leave him there… it didn't sit right with Connor. So he refused to do the same.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'll keep you company. I don't want you to die, Simon, and the best way to make sure you don't pass out is to keep you focused. Alright?"

Simon paused for a while, the only sound heavy breathing. Connor heard a soft sigh a few seconds later.

"Alright. If that's what you want," Simon lilted. Then, much softer, "thank you, Connor. I appreciate it."

Connor smiled softly, even though the man couldn't see it.

"Of course, Simon. I won't leave you. I promise."

And he meant it. He would stay on the line as long as he could.

After that Connor carefully put everything on the desk in order, removing all traces of his hacking software, so no one could see what he had done. Remembering Dr. Allen, Connor then wiped the hard drive, just to be safe. Then he rebooted. Could never be too careful, right?

That finished, Connor left the room, being careful not to be spotted. While he had the excuse of Rose needing his help with her computers, he knew it wasn't the strongest of excuses. He'd rather not use it if possible. Luckily, he was able to escape the nurses' station without being detected, finding himself in the nearly empty common room. The only sound came from the aged television set along the far wall in the room, all of the people in the room gathered around it. Assuming a sports game of some kind was on, Connor moved to the staircase. He hadn't even made it three steps when he froze in his spot, however, heart quickly turning to ice when he overheard a sentence from the TV.

"-Stratford tower, leaving a chilling message."

Connor slowly turned to the TV, six or seven individuals scattered around it, speaking soft and worried words. Connor didn't care about them. All he cared about was the TV. Taking steps closer, Connor listened to the broadcast, hearing Markus and his speech again.

"-their bidding. So, please. Help us. Stop Cyber. Free my people. Free us."

The reporters face, a blond woman with a severe frown, filled the screen.

"So there you have it, folks. What on earth could this mean? Is it true? Is there really a government conspiracy of this caliber going on, right under our noses this entire time? The president has yet to reply, but I think we all are eagerly awaiting her statement later today. But what does this mean for America? What is the purpose of these "enhanced humans?" Why has the government kept this a secret from us? And are we still able to trust our own neighbors? More, at 11."

The news broadcast turned to commercials after that, the entire group at the TV bursting into conversation, the two nurses who were standing to the side whispering furiously to each other. Connor could see Luther standing off to the other side, small smile lighting his face. It seemed he, like Connor, knew how monumental this was. As Connor stood there, adrenaline from the fire fight and from helping Simon wearing off, he couldn't help but feel a strange giddiness fill his heart.

Holy shit. They'd done it. They'd done it! Yes, Simon had been left behind (and Connor really had to get back to his room, to make sure Simon didn't think he'd left him), but other than that the plan had worked perfectly. They'd gotten the truth out. There was no way the government could cover this up this time. Sure, they could lie and say it wasn't true, but Connor knew the way the world worked. They wouldn't be able to sweep this under the rug completely. It might take years, but one day, his people would be free. /He/ would be free. God, how that made his heart sing.

Connor was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't notice the person walking up to stand beside him until the man spoke, startling Connor out of his thoughts. Eyes wide, Connor turned to the side, heart stopping when he saw the familiar face.

"So. You know anything about what that was?" Hank intoned, eyes hard as his eyes bored into Connor, silently judging him. Connor's mouth went dry, heart pounding. Shit. What could he say?

"H-Hank! I-I don't know what you mean."

Smooth, Connor. Real smooth. Hank's frown deepened, turning into a scowl.

"Like hell you don't. You don't want to tell me, fine. Keep your secrets. But don't fucking lie to me, kid. I was there on Friday, you know."

/I do know,/ Connor wanted to say, scowl wanting to rise on his lips. /you've been avoiding me because of it./

Connor didn't say that though, instead looking down at the ground. He heard Simon questioning him in his earpiece, but he ignored him. It wouldn't do to sound crazy, talking to himself. Eventually, Hank sighed, sounding so weary it made Connor's heart ache.

"You know what? Fine. Whatever. You all think I'm worthless, a fucking invalid. I'm not. But keep your fucking secrets. Whatever."

Hank stormed off, leaving Connor to stare after him, heart in his throat. He hadn't wanted to hurt the man. Shit. That's why he had wanted to tell him! Damn Markus for making him keep the plan a secret. Connor resolved to tell Hank the full story later, once the situation with Simon was resolved.

Speaking of Simon… Connor turned to the stairs and hurriedly returned to his room. Once in, Connor opened the laptop, informing Simon he was now able to talk and was signing into the laptop, so he could keep an eye on the broadcast room to keep Simon safe.

Simon asked what had happened with Hank, but Connor resolutely ignored it, changing the topic immediately. Thankfully, Simon got the hint and didn't bring it up again. Connor watched the security feed, noting the new individuals in the room. At some point while he'd been gone, the FBI had shown up, the presumed leader a rat-faced man that Connor instantly hated. There was something about his face that rubbed Connor wrong.

Hours passed like that, Connor watching the feed while the two men chatted softly with one another, Simon letting out pained grunts every now and again. As the hours passed, his voice had grown weaker and weaker, his words barely coming out in a whisper by the time it was 8:00, long pauses between words. Connor couldn't help the way his heart squeezed. More than once Connor had had to force the man into consciousness by yelling. At one point a fire fight had gone off in the broadcasting room, one of the security guards taking a police officer's machine gun and gunning down dozens of officers. It had distracted the police and FEDs enough to prevent them from heading to the roof, which made Connor relieved. While the new snow mostly covered it, anyone who went up to the roof would still be able to make out faint hints of red blood leading to Simon's hiding place.

It was almost 9:00 by the time the police and FBI had left the broadcast room. They hadn't even left a guard to watch the room. There was still yellow tape everywhere, but Connor concluded it was safe for Simon to escape.

"Simon. The broadcasting room and the hallway leading to the exit are clear for the moment. Do you think you would be able to move to escape, now?"

Another long pause. Connor was afraid the man had fall asleep, but he finally responded a minute later.

"I think so. My leg doesn't hurt as bad now, but I think it needs to be looked at. It's turning bright red and yellow, which I don't think is a good color."

No, no it was not. That meant it was getting infected. Shit. Simon needed to get assistance immediately, then.

"Okay. If you think you can make it, I will make sure the coast is clear for you. Can you make it to the service elevator you entered the building in? If you get to the elevator, you'll be able to go back to the docking terminal, where you can exit the facility carefully. Not many people should be around, so it will be easier than when you snuck in. I'll even call you a cab for when you're out. Does this sound like a good plan to you?"

Another pause.

"Yeah. Yeah, it sounds fine. Thank you, Connor. I, I don't know what I'd have done without you. We're very lucky to have you on our side."

Connor felt his entire face flush bright red, a soft smile rising on his lips unbidden. Connor liked Simon. He was a good man. If Connor wasn't so infatuated with Hank (and if Simon wasn't so infatuated with Markus), Connor could see himself falling for the man. He had a soft, gentle demeanor. He made people feel safe. Connor liked that. Now he just had to keep Simon alive while he tried to escape.

Connor heard the sound of grunts and groans coming from his ear, muffled clangs from the metal vent filling the air. Connor waited as Simon got up, listening for Simon to say he was up. While he waited, he called a cab, letting them know his friend had hurt his leg and wanted a ride home, that he was fine and just needed to rest. They said they'd be there in less than ten minutes. A couple minutes later he got confirmation from Simon that he was up and ready to go.

"Alright. Simon, you'll have to hurry. I don't know how long before someone comes back to the broadcasting room, so do your best to hurry. I'm going to hack the cameras and put them on a loop, just in case. Make your way back to the elevator you came in on, okay?"

"Okay," Simon whispered, voice strained with the effort of standing. Connor heard a loud cry of pain from Simon, causing fear to fill Connor. He waited with bated breath, hoping no one heard. It seemed Simon was doing the same, the man deathly silent.

After a moment, no one showed up, both men melting with relief. Simon then made the trek to the elevator, stifling his cries of pain carefully. It was heartbreaking to listen to, but Connor didn't dare take his ear piece out.

Finally, Simon made it to the elevator, opening it and getting in, riding it to the bottom floor. From there, Connor directed Simon through the maze of people and objects, safely getting him outside. Connor didn't let go of the breath he'd been holding until Simon was safely in the cab, the man softly informing him that he would respond as soon as he made it to the location Markus and the others had told him, though he'd have to make the last couple miles on foot. Connor just agreed, telling Simon to take all the time he needed.

Things went silent after that, the only sound from the earpiece being Simon's silent breathing. It took a long while, Simon taking a long time to walk the last miles, but eventually Simon had found his way to the location Markus and the others had indicated they should meet at. Simon refused to tell Connor the exact location, saying that he didn't know how secure the line was. Connor knew that it was probably in case he got contacted by Cyber for his involvement, but he didn't mind. He understood.

Connor didn't relax fully until he had heard Simon call out to Markus, the other man calling Simon's name in happiness. Connor assumed the two hugged when he heard a crinkling sound over the ear piece. He distantly heard Markus ask how Simon had gotten out alive, claiming he had been worried that they'd left him there to die.

"It was Connor. He helped me stay calm so I could get the bullet out and create a tourniquet. He then spoke to me for hours while we waited for the police to leave and helped me get out. I'm incredibly grateful that he joined our group. Without him, I don't think I'd have survived."

Simon's voice was fond, a smile in the words. Connor blushed, feeling strangely pleased. He could hear Markus's voice, distant but distinct.

"Your earpiece still works? Ours broke after we jumped, the wind knocking them out. Is Connor still there?"

Connor heard as Simon agreed, before more crinkling happened, the words the men spoke too muffled to make out. When Markus's voice rang out, smooth and clear, Connor realized Simon had handed Markus the ear piece.

"Connor! How are you, is everything alright? No one has bothered you, have they?"

The fact Markus could be so concerned about him when he was currently the one on the lamb truly was astonishing. He couldn't help the soft laugh he released, though it sounded more like a forceful exhalation.

"I'm fine, Markus. No one has questioned me yet. I promise not to tell anyone, even if they ask. Though," Connor added, remembering the interaction he'd had with his roommate at the TV, "I will be telling Hank. He deserves to know and I can't hide it any longer. Besides, he already guessed the truth."

"Of course. I understand. Just be careful, alright? People will be gunning for you now, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I know. I was prepared for that when you told me the plan. I've handled angry people before. I think I'll be fine."

Markus let out a soft sound, agreeing quietly.

"Alright, Connor. I… I want to thank you. For everything. And for helping Simon. When we left him behind I… I thought I'd never see him again. So thank you, for making sure he got home safely to me. I mean, us. Safely to us. I'll never be able to repay you for that."

The words were soft and made Connor smile. Perhaps Simon's crush wasn't one sided after all. Where North came in, Connor didn't know. But he supposed it wasn't his business.

"You don't have to repay me, Markus. It was my pleasure. I'm glad I was of assistance. Now, it is getting late and Hank will be arriving at any moment. Is this all for the night?"

"Yes. Yes, it is. Get some sleep, Connor. The next few days are going to be rough. Keep the earpiece nearby, though. And you still have the laptop, yes?"

Connor replied in the affirmative, so Markus continued.

"I'll send you an encrypted email when I wish to contact you next. Until then, keep the ear piece somewhere no one will find it, alright? It would be bad if it fell into the wrong person's hands."

Connor agreed, knowing exactly where to hide it, and bid Markus a good night. He also wished the man good luck, hoping they'd see one another soon. Markus wished Connor the same, before turning the device off. Connor took his out and brought it to the bathroom, finding the tile that Hank had loosened months prior, keeping his valuables there. Hank had told Connor about it the previous Wednesday, in case he had anything to hide, Hank had said. Connor had politely refused, since he had nothing that held value to him, but he appreciated it now. The space wasn't very big, but it was enough to keep the earpiece safe.

There were only two things in the hiding space, an old wedding band and a folded photo. Connor resisted the urge to unfold the photo and instead put the earpiece on top of it, then placed the tile back to no one could see the difference. Connor then entered the bedroom again, sitting on the bed, head immediately hitting his hands.

God. They'd done it. They'd really done it. Simon was safe. The word was out. Cyber was exposed. They'd done everything they'd planned on doing. And things were working out well for now.

Christ. Connor didn't want to jinx it, but he was incredibly excited to see how things turned out. He hoped that Cyber was taken down soon. The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could work on unlearning all the shit they'd placed in his head.

Connor had been about to change into his sleep clothes and go to bed when the door opened carefully, Hank's scruffy face poking through the doorway. The man scowled when he saw Connor, but when he entered the room Connor noticed he was carrying a plate, covered by a plastic dome. Just like the first night he'd been there. Connor felt his heart melt at the sight.

"Hey kid," Hank grunted, voice gruffer than usual. "Noticed you hadn't come down for dinner. So I brought you this. It's a little cold now, but it should taste fine."

Connor gratefully took the plate, heart sinking when Hank immediately pulled his hands back, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Ah. So he was still mad.

The shower started a minute later, so Connor occupied his time by eating the cold tacos that Hank had brought. They were chicken and tasted alright cold. Not great, but it was something.

Twenty minutes passed before Hank was done with his shower, leaving the bathroom with another towel wrapped around his hips. The second time in one day that Connor was allowed to see so much skin, though it had felt lifetimes ago that he'd last seen Hank's body despite the fact it had only been that morning. So much had happened. So much had changed.

Connor couldn't tear his eyes away, loving the way Hank flushed with his whole body, shoulders turning red with embarrassment. It was cute. Hank was cute. Hank stormed back into the bathroom and changed, exiting a minute later fully dressed. He glared at Connor, and Connor knew he had to tell the man then and there. Since Markus hadn't rejected his plan to tell Hank, Connor figured it was okay now.

"Hank. I, I wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?"

Hank just grunted, turning annoyed eyes on Connor. Connor licked his lips nervously.

"It's about what happened in the tower."

That got Hank's attention, the man instantly looking up, eyes burning Connor's. A moment passed.

"Yeah?" Hank asked, tone annoyed, "what about it?"

Ah. Right. He had to actually speak. Taking a breath, Connor began at the beginning, from the day before to that very moment, sparing nothing. It took almost an hour to finish, the clock striking 11:00 by the time he was done. Hank had just listened, saying nothing.

That worried Connor. Was he angry? Upset? Did he hate Connor? Had he broken things irreparably?

Long minutes passed after Connor finished, fiddling with his coin while Hank glared at the wall, going through the information. Connor had decided to tell Hank why Markus had decided to keep the information from him. While he knew Hank would hate it, he hadn't wanted to lie anymore. He was so sick of lying.

"Okay."

Hank said it so casually and in such a non-confrontational manner that it took Connor a second to realize the man had spoken. It had taken a few more to fully understand the words. When he did, though, he couldn't help but stare at Hank in shock. The man was frowning still, but he was looking at Connor, blue eyes warm.

"O-okay?"

Hank nodded, a considering look on his face.

"Yeah. Okay." Upon seeing the confusion on Connor's face, Hank leaned forward and expanded. "Look, kid. I can't say I'm not upset that Markus didn't want me to know. Hell, I'm kind of fucking pissed. But that isn't your fault. You were just following orders. I can't fault you for that. And hey, you guys did the whole thing without me. Probably would have just slowed you down anyway," Hank added in an undertone, causing Connor to frown.

"That's not true! You would have been great help to us, Lieutenant! Y-you would have been great help to me!"

Hank smiled at that, the first he'd seen the entire conversation. It instantly put Connor at ease. He loved that smile.

"Heh. Thanks, Con. Now, enough feelings. It's late. Let's head to bed, yeah? Something tells me things won't be going so great the next few days and we're gonna need our rest."

Connor nodded, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. He practically melted into his bed, not bothering with pajamas, face down on the pillow. He heard Hank chuckle, then felt hands maneuvering him into the bed, gently helping him undress and get into pajamas. Connor said nothing, enjoying the treatment. Hank didn't look as he got Connor out of his shirt and pants, handing him the old t-shirt and boxer shorts for him to dress himself. Connor felt so tired he hadn't wanted to but did anyway. As soon as he finished he face planted back into the pillow. He heard Hank chuckle, then felt himself get maneuvered again, getting placed under the covers. It felt so… nice. Something a parent would do.

After he was nice and tucked in, he felt chapped, warm lips gently press against the side of his head, causing his heart to speed up, though he was too tired to think about it.

Everything that had happened that day had left him exhausted. He wanted to think through it, but he found he could barely think of anything.

The last thought he had before drifting into sleep was that he wished Hank would kiss him again.

Only this time a bit lower on his face.


	15. Untitled

Sorry for not posting last week. It's break, and I was gone.

And honestly? I don't much care for this fic anymore. I've already finished it, so I'll finish posting it, but I just... I don't know. It's meh to me. I don't even know what's going on at this point of the story, to be honest.

Enjoy. Or don't. Whatevs.

* * *

Cole bounced happily around the room, face bright with a grin, talking wildly. Hank grinned at the sight, walking over to his son and picking him up, swinging him through the air as the young boy shrieked with joy.

It was Cole's sixth birthday. They were about to head to the arcade to celebrate with all of Cole's friends and the boy was beyond excited. He spoke a mile a minute, Hank smiling gently at the boy. Part of him ached inside, but he pushed it aside, not acknowledging the pain. This was a happy day. There was no reason to be sad.

"And, and James said that I couldn't jump it, but I said I totally could! So I jumped it and everyone was so impressed! Even Sara," Cole enthused, cheeks pink with exertion as he wiggled in Hank's arms. Hank chuckled, kissing his son's hair.

These were the times he loved the most. Just the two of them, Cole so exited he could burst. Hank loved these moments and would do anything to… but he wouldn't think of that. This was a happy moment. He listened as Cole kept telling him about how impressed everyone was that he jumped the "giant, bigger than the Detroit river!" puddle, his heart full. A minute passed, when Cole let out a happy gasp, wiggling to be let down. Hank frowned softly, not remembering this. But, he didn't let it ruin his mood. He let Cole down and watched as he ran into someone else's arms. The man, whose face Hank couldn't see for some reason, swung Cole around, both letting out a joyful laugh.

"Connor! You're here! I thought you wouldn't make it!"

The man (Connor, his heart whispered, beating fast) chuckled, swinging Cole around so Hank could finally see his face. His goddamn beautiful face.

He looked so happy, looking at Cole with such tenderness. Such love. It took Hank's breath away.

"Of course I made it, Cole. I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world. What do you think you're going to get?"

That got Cole started, rambling about the presents he wanted, but Hank couldn't hear. A shadow had passed over his heart. This wasn't right. Connor wasn't supposed to be here. He hadn't met Connor yet. Not for three more years. Not until after…

"Hank? Are you alright, darling?"

Darling? Hank's breath caught as Connor let Cole down, the boy running to his room to get his favorite toy. Connor moved gracefully forward, soft frown lighting his beautiful lips.

"Hey," Connor breathed as he got closer, wrapping his arms around Hank's waist. Hank found he couldn't breathe, heart stopped as Connor pressed against him. God, it had been so long since someone had been so close…

"He's getting so big. Pretty soon we won't be able to carry him anymore."

The words were soft, Connor's eyes softer. Hank remembered this conversation, but it hadn't been as pleasant, his wife- but he wouldn't think of her. Not when he had his arms full of warm, supple Connor.

"Yeah. I'll carry him as long as I can, though. He loves it," Hank muttered, pressing his nose into Connor's hair, thrilling at the green apple scent that he found there. It was so… /Connor./

"Wouldn't want you to pull out your back. You spoil him."

Whispered words, hands teasing his sides. Definitely more pleasant than the original conversation.

A warm chuckle sounded then, before soft lips pressed against his neck, causing him to gasp.

"I love you, Hank. You know that, right?" Connor breathed, pulling back to look Hank in the eye. Well. That certainly hadn't happened originally. Barbara hadn't said she loved him in years before they divorced. But it sounded much nicer coming from those perfect lips, so all Hank could do was smile.

"Yeah. I love you too, kid. So fucking much", he muttered, pressing his forehead against Connor's, relishing in the pressure. Connor brought his hand up, pressing it against Hank's heart. He could feel the smile against his chin.

"Good. I worry you don't realize, sometimes, just how precious you are. You mean the world to me. More than anything. I'd wait a million years for you."

God. Those words. From that mouth. He should kiss those words out of him.

So he did. He gently cupped Connor's face, leaning it back to look up at him. Connor looked at him with hooded eyes, sly smile on his lips. Like he knew what was about to happen. Hank leaned in, slowly, and finally, /finally/, pressed his lips against those soft, perfect lips.

God. They were as amazing as he remembered, supple and pliant against his own. He pressed hard against that body, his larger frame dominating the slighter one before him, Connor gasping softly, mouth opening enough for Hank to press his tongue inside.

Just as Hank was about to deepen the kiss further, he heard a noise of disgust coming from the hallway.

"Ewww! Dad! That's so gross!"

Hank pulled back from Connor and couldn't help but laugh, deep and hearty, while Connor's eyes filled with mirth as he pulled away from Hank. Connor walked over to Cole and bent to pick him up, the boy slotting perfectly on his hip. Cole still look disgusted but leaned into Connor, smiling happily.

They looked like they were made to be like that. Like this was an everyday, normal occurrence. Like this happened all the time.

But it didn't. And Hank couldn't help the stab of pain that ripped through his heart at the sight. The facts that he had tried so hard to ignore were making themselves known, at the forefront of his mind. Unable to be denied any longer.

The scene before him had never happened, and never would. Cole was dead. He'd died three years prior. He would never meet Connor. They'd never be so close to one another, Cole slotting so perfectly into Connor's arms, smiling so sweetly at each other. This was only a dream.

The dream Connor had turned to him, eyes concerned, but Hank was already starting to awaken, the magic broken by his realization. The dream Connor called his name, over and over, but Hank couldn't respond, mind waking. It was only when he realized he was now awake that he noticed the voice calling his name hadn't stopped.

"Hank. You have to wake up. You have a phone call waiting for you."

Connor. Connor was saying something to him. Blinking his bleary eyes open, Hank squinted at Connor, his soft hair falling in his eyes, standing by the window. Hank's heart clenched at the sight, his mind bringing up the dream he'd just had. God, it had felt so real. At least it had been more family friendly than the dream he'd had the night before. Even thinking of that dream caused Hank to flush, shoving his blankets off as he walked over to the desk, steps wobbly as his mind woke up.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

"She won't leave her name, but she says that she has urgent business with you. She was about to hang up when I answered, but I asked if she wanted you and she said yes."

Who… Hank never got calls. So who would be calling…?

Unless…

"Shit. I know who it is. And it's they. They don't go by 'She,' they go by they/them."

Connor's eyes went wide, handing the phone over.

"Oh! I apologize. Please, tell them I will not make that mistake in the future."

Hank grunted and put the phone receiver to his ear. He was still half asleep, but he was waking up more and more by the second. The pleasant warmth he'd felt from his dream faded into cold reality. Guess it was time for business.

"Hey, it's me. What's up?"

Hank heard shuffling on the other side of the phone, before Starlight's disgruntled voice came on the phone.

"I got it. It wasn't easy, but I got it. However, there were… complications. Are we still meeting today?"

Their voice sounded awful. All dry and scratchy. An effect added to disguise themself, or a result of whatever they'd done to get the data package? Hank didn't know.

"Yeah, yeah we are. If you want, that is. If not, we can meet some other day, just let me know."

A moment of silence passed.

"I can meet. But we have to talk. You didn't tell me about the plan," they stressed, voice rougher. Probably trying to sound tough. Didn't really work, but Hank wasn't about to tell them that.

"Hey, that one isn't on me. I had no idea. No one tells me anything around here," Hank commented, side-eyeing Connor, who was trying really hard to pretend like he wasn't eavesdropping. The way his ears turned red, though, told Hank that he was.

"Listen, we can talk later. What time do you want to meet?"

"The earlier the better. After the… /events,/ I need to get out of this town. I'll drop it off as soon as I can. Does noon work for you?"

They posed it as a question, but Hank had a feeling it wasn't so much a question as a demand. Luckily, he didn't mind noon.

"Yeah, that works. Hey, thanks. For doing this. Even with recent events this will help. Hell, /because/ of recent events this will help."

Starlight scoffed, glare clear even through the phone.

"Really? Because it makes things harder for /me./ But fine. If this works… well, then maybe one day I'll actually be free. But until then this is very inconvenient," they stressed, annoyance clear in their voice. Hank rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well they never said progress was easy. Now I have to go. I'll see you later."

Hank hanged up then, not waiting for their response. He didn't want to hear their complaints. He looked up at Connor, who was busy arranging his shelf, which held some of his old artwork that he'd thrown out? For some reason?

"You know, it's rude to eavesdrop."

Connor startled at the words, wide, guilty eyes landing on Hank. Shit, those eyes. They might as well be a weapon, they were so powerful at making him feel things. Both negative and positive.

"I, I'm sorry Hank. I was… I was curious. I shouldn't have listened in. Please, forgive me."

Fuck. How was this legal? How could someone be so adorable while apologizing? Christ, he looked like Sumo, begging for forgiveness after he'd broken something. Or like Cole, when he'd done something wrong. It wasn't fair.

So Hank rolled his eyes. How could be ever stay mad at this kid? Even Connor keeping him out of their plan the other night wasn't enough to keep him angry.

Though he had to admit, that did sting. A lot, actually. Did Markus think him that fragile? Did he think he'd break at anything? How pathetic did Markus truly think him?

Though… he did have some reason. Markus had been the first person to see him, after he'd tried to kill himself the previous month. Before then, Hank hadn't really thought the man cared for him much. Well, obviously he knew that Markus liked him, but he hadn't realized it was any more than he liked any of the other patients. But the man had looked rough, coming into his room. Like he hadn't slept the night before. And when he saw Hank, he'd looked so sorrowful. He hadn't even really said anything to Hank at the time, had just stared at him, making Hank feel like shit. He'd muttered at the end that he was glad that Hank had survived and that he hoped the man never felt the need to ever try again. Then he'd left. It was at that moment that Hank realized that maybe people did care about him. That he wasn't as alone as he'd thought.

So yeah. Maybe Markus had a point. But it still stung. Knowing how far he'd fallen. How much of himself he'd let go. Years ago, he'd have been more than able to help them in their plan. Hell, he might even have been an asset. But now, as he was…

That's why he had to do what he was doing with Starlight. And later, he vowed, staring at Connor's wide, sorrowful eyes, he'd tell Connor. Then Connor could find a way to tell Markus and Cyber would be gone for good. It was all well and good to tell the world about the Company. But it was another thing entirely to have thousands of testimonies about it. The government couldn't deny the existence of Cyber if that many people came out. Plus, safety in numbers.

"I'm not mad, kid. Just busting your balls. Though seriously, don't eavesdrop, alright? We both have our secrets, which is fine. As long as we tell the other eventually, yeah?"

Connor nodded eagerly, face earnest. Christ, this kid.

"Yes. Of course, Hank. I… I hope you tell me soon, but I understand if you don't trust me. I've not done much to earn your trust in the past few days."

Jesus fuckin'…

"Fuck that, kid," Hank snorted, walking closer to Connor. Connor's eyes widened again as Hank put his hand on Connor's slim shoulder, grounding them both. "It's nothing to do with trust. I just… I need to make sure this is the real deal before blabbing about it, yeah? Nothin' personal."

He meant it. Part of him wanted to tell Connor, but the larger part had to keep this a secret. Until he had the flash drive with the data package on it in his hands. He didn't even know why that was important to him. Maybe he wanted to see the look in Connor's eye when he realized how useful Hank could be. That Hank wasn't just a worthless, piece of shit like his father had always said. Like everyone had always said, up until the time he decided to become a cop and do something useful with his life. Yeah. He'd like that look. He didn't want to mar it with disappointment if it turned out Hank couldn't deliver. He might finally off himself if that happened. He honestly didn't know if he was joking or not.

Still, offing himself would mean he'd never get to see that beautiful smile again. Christ it was breathtaking. So small, so gentle. But so genuine. On a face that looked like it didn't smile often, it was perfect.

"Okay, Hank. I trust you."

Part of Hank wanted to say fuck it, throw all caution to the wind, and just kiss those soft lips. Kiss that smile away like in his dream. But he knew better. Connor would never want that. Hank was lucky Connor seemed to enjoy being in his presence. He shouldn't push his luck.

So he just smiled back, squeezing the shoulder he was still holding. Slowly, reluctantly, Hank pulled his hand away and walked over to his dresser, picking out some of his more professional clothes. He changed in the bathroom and headed back to the main room, looking around for his favored jacket. After a minute of searching, he heard Connor clear his throat.

"Hank. Is this what you're looking for?"

Hank looked up to see Connor holding out his jacket, secret smile on his lips. Hank grunted, grabbing the thing, hoping the flush on his cheeks at the image he got of Connor wearing that jacket (and /only/ that jacket) wasn't too noticeable.

"Thanks, kid. Where'd you find it?"

"I fear I never gave it back, after you lent it to me on Sunday. I apologize."

Oh yeah. He'd forgotten that. Connor really did look good in the thing, swimming in the material, playing with the sleeves. So, so good. He pushed down the image that was stubbornly cropping its way back up. He walked over and took the jacket, lingering near Connor. Inside his orbit.

"Oh yeah. Thanks, Connor. 'Preciate it."

Connor's soft smile grew, until it was overwhelming in its intensity and beauty. Ah, shit. He was way too far gone on this. All he wanted was to kiss those lips. As the kids would say, it was hella distracting.

"Don't worry about it, Hank. Though, I should be the one thanking you. But…" Connor paused, a frown marring his lips. "You don't have to keep on giving me your jacket. I have a modification that allows me to be immune to the cold. I don't feel it."

Well, fuck that. Hank snorted.

"Fuck that noise. Just because you may be 'immune to the cold,' or whatever the fuck, doesn't mean it doesn't affect you. Besides, I have more insulation than you do. I can take the cold."

Hank watched as Connor softly smiled, fiddling with that damn coin of his. Hank watched, enraptured, as he did his tricks absentmindedly. Shit, it was impressive. And distracting. On a whim, Hank's hand darted out and made to grab the coin, the movement too distracting. However, his reflexes were a little too late (at least that's what he'd go to the grave swearing), for instead of the coin, he caught Connor's slight hand in his rough one, coin pressed between their hands. The pair looked up into each other's eyes, both wide. Hank felt his heart pound. Ah. Shit.

"That, uh. That's impressive. But it. It uh, makes me dizzy. To watch."

A load of bullshit. It didn't make him dizzy. Connor's eyes did that, those brown masterpieces causing his head to swim. But he had to say something. Couldn't just say, "I really wanted to hold your hand, to feel those dexterous fingers against mine." Yeah. That'd go over well.

Still, Connor reflexively clenched his fingers, pressing against Hank's in such a delicious manner. God, what would those warm fingers feel like, wrapped around his di-

Oookay, abandoning that train of thought. But it still felt so nice, those soft digits pressed against his. Christ. He wanted to kiss the man in front of him. He'd never wanted anything so bad. (Well, that was a lie. He's pretty sure he'd give all of this up if it meant holding Cole again. But it was becoming harder to say that.)

For a minute they stared at one another, Connor's fingers pressed so nicely against his. Connor's hand wasn't a perfect fit, the slim appendage dwarfed by Hank's larger one, but they fit well together.

Eventually, Hank had to pull away. If he stayed any longer he'd lose all sense of time and place. And he had someone to meet. It was only 10:30, but he wanted to be prepared for their meeting. So he peeled away from Connor, mourning the loss.

"Anyway. I should get going. I'll uh, see you later. Bye."

No one ever said Hank wasn't awkward. Shoulders hunched, Hank forced his way out of the room, eyes straight ahead of him. It wasn't until he reached the dining hall that he realized he was still holding Connor's quarter, which he must have taken accidentally in his haste. He rubbed it thoughtfully, wondering if he'd ever be able to do some of those tricks. Probably not. Connor was just amazing at everything.

Putting the coin in his pocket, Hank got on line for the food. It was French toast today, which was a pleasant surprise. They didn't get unhealthy food often. It was a little cold, warm breakfast having ended a little while ago, but it was still good.

Hank ate his food carefully, savoring the bites. When Connor came down, a little while later, Hank hesitated when the kid looked over to him, question in his eyes. But just as Connor was about to look away, such bitter disappointment in his gaze, Hank gave in and waved the kid over. He couldn't help the blush that rose on his face when Connor grinned so brightly, eyes practically illuminated with how happy they were.

The pair didn't really speak during the meal, but Hank couldn't ignore the dozen times Connor would look up at him, smile his dazzling smile, then go back to his food. It was beyond distracting.

When the clock struck 11:00, breakfast long over, Hank stood and bid Connor goodbye, heading for the common room. He didn't have anything to do, really, but he found he couldn't stay with Connor any longer. The stare…

Hank had no idea what Connor's deal was. Why he kept staring. Why he seemed to care so much about what Hank did. Why he cared that Hank had allowed him to sit with him at breakfast. It made no sense. Yeah, he'd become infatuated with the kid. But why did the kid care so much back? Was it the fact that Hank had been the only person he'd been around after getting away from Cyber? But that wasn't true. He'd had Markus, Kara, Alice, and Rose. Even Luther. And it wasn't like Hank had been particularly kind the first couple days. Maybe it was proximity. The two spent a lot of time in closed quarters. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Whatever the reason, it made his heart soar when Connor looked at him like that. Like he was something precious. Like he meant the world. He remembered his dream, those softly spoken words…

He wanted it, he knew, as he sat on the ugly green couch. He wanted to be everything to Connor. He wanted to hold the kid tight every night and never let him go. To wrap himself up in Connor and forget everything else. He wanted to kiss those lips, for real this time, not a mistake or a drunken fumbling. He wanted to map that body, hands trailing warm, supple flesh. He wanted… so much. So goddamn much. And the cruel irony of the world was that he'd never have it. Always see, never touch. But that was alright. As long as he had Connor in his life, he'd be fine.

But he could dream. And dream he would. It's all he could do. He knew he didn't deserve someone like Connor. Connor, who was young, beautiful. Who had his whole life ahead of him.

Who would probably forget about him once he got out, keen to start his life. To live.

Ah. Fuck. Hank took a deep breath to get rid of the deep, stabbing pain that hit his heart. He'd just hold the kid back. Dream all he'd like, Connor didn't need him. Connor didn't need or deserve a fucked up alcoholic screw up like him. He deserved someone who could help him expand. Who could love him unconditionally, who wasn't trapped in the past. He deserved the world.

Damn it. This was just bringing him down. Taking another deep breath, Hank stood and moved over to the baby grand in the corner, fingers gently caressing the keys. He still was awful at playing the thing, but he enjoyed it. It was soothing.

Ignoring the doubt in his mind, Hank began playing, the music halting but clear. He played a sad song he used to love as a child, the song reminding him of what it was like to be the child of two alcoholics, ignored and forgotten. Except when they'd needed something. He did his best to stop his fumbling fingers from ruining the song, hoping he did a good enough job. When he finished, he was surprised to hear someone clap, looking behind him to see Connor, smiling brightly at him. Fuck. Not the person he wanted to see right then. Was the kid fucking following him?

"That was beautiful, Hank," Connor spoke softly, eyes warm.

Nope. Nope. Fuck that. Hank could not deal with that look on him. Not then. Not while he felt like an old, creepy fucker. Not when his own inadequacy was hitting him over the head. He needed to get away from that look.

Standing stiffly, Hank rushed out of the room, ignoring Connor's concerned voice calling after him. It pained him to run from the kid, but he needed air. He needed to think.

Once outside, bitter cold biting his flesh, he found he could breathe again. Shit. That kid did such things to him…

Hank pushed all thoughts out of his head. It wasn't worth it to think of everything he couldn't ever have. He had important things to do.

He didn't know the time but he had a feeling it was close to noon. While waiting, he decided to wander the garden, dead as it was. It was still nice, white with the freshly fallen snow. Plus it helped give him something to focus on. Anything to focus on.

It was a few minutes later that he heard a sound to his left, causing his police instincts to kick in. He casually kept walking, the sound getting louder. Footsteps, but like someone was trying to muffle them. Figuring it was probably Starlight, but not wanting to take a risk, Hank quickly turned and faced the noise, fists clenched. He relaxed when he saw it was, indeed, just Starlight, hiding beneath a tree, glaring at him.

"You didn't say where to meet," they intoned, eyes accusing. Hank rolled his eyes.

"It's not like the garden is huge. After all, you did find me, yeah?"

Starlight scowled at him, but shuffled closer, eyes darting around the garden. It was so frigid out that no one dared be outside, leaving them alone in peace. That was one of the reasons he chose the garden to meet. It was rarely occupied during the winter. Only he was dumb enough to brave the cold. Starlight dragged him into the bushes, though, so that no one could see them at all.

"Whatever. Here. Take it," they stressed, forcing a small object into Hank's hand. Hank looked at it. It was a small, unassuming flash drive. But he knew what was on the inside. Barely able to contain the way his heart leapt, he grinned at the person in front of him.

"So this is it? The data package thing with the access key?"

Starlight crossed their arms, glaring further.

"Yes. But you have to be careful. My… my friend, they got caught, giving this to me. I, I don't know what will happen to them. I nearly got caught myself. I'm pretty sure they didn't find out what we had done, so the access key should still work, but it wasn't without costs. So please. End this. If this doesn't work… all of this will have been for nothing. And I swear, if this was a joke, or you don't mean this seriously…"

Hank glowered back at Starlight, putting their pissy little glare to shame. Yeah, he felt bad for them, but seriously. He was trying to help them.

"I mean it, kid. Don't worry. I can't promise it'll work, as it is risky. But it's worth a shot. I'm sorry about your friend. If you know their name, or any personal information about them, maybe once this is all over you can find them. If we win, that is."

Starlight stared at him, hard, then nodded sharply once.

"Fine. Tell whoever gets the code that they need to work fast. The code expires Friday at midnight, a new code issued after that for the next week. I added the location to the facility in the package, as well as any other information they might need. Tell them… tell them good luck. From all of us," Starlight said softly, looking down at the ground. Hank let out a noise of agreement.

"Yeah. Okay. Is there anything else or is this it?"

"No, I don't think so-"

Starlight cut off abruptly, their eyes widening as they looked at something behind Hank. Hank almost turned to look when Starlight's face turned murderous, eyes pinning Hank with fury.

"You motherfucker! This was a trap, wasn't it?!"

Starlight darted forward, clearly intent on grabbing the access key, but Hank had thirty years of police experience on his side. He easily side-stepped them and dodged as they tried again.

"Hey! Woah, easy! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Hank exclaimed, grabbing Starlight by their arms, pinning them in place. He hated doing it, not liking to use his larger frame against those physically weaker, but he had to stop them somehow. Still, Starlight struggled against him, teeth bared.

"You bastard! I trusted you!"

Okay. Obviously he was missing something. Unless Starlight might benefit from spending time in the facility themself.

"Hold up! What the hell are you talking about?! What is it you think I've done?"

Starlight glowered at him, before looking behind him, eyes intent on where Hank knew the facility to be. While they were hidden from the sight of the facility, deep in the bushes, they could still see the facility. Hank looked at Starlight warily.

"Okay, I'm going to let you go to look, but you have to promise not to claw my eyes out, okay?"

Starlight hesitated, eyes wary, but nodded tightly after a second. Hank carefully let them go, then turned to face the facility, wondering what had gotten them so upset.

He figured out immediately, eyes widening as he backed further into the bushes, dragging Starlight with him.

It was the fucking FEDS. What the fuck? Why were they there? Hank hissed as he saw men prowling the facility, barking orders at those inside. He couldn't hear anything, but he was sure it was a shit show.

At least now he understood why Starlight had freaked out. Probably thought the FEDs were with him. He looked down at them, their eyes still guarded but warming slightly.

"Shit, kid. They're not with me. I have no idea why they'd fucking in here. Unless…" Hank paused, thinking. It wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that Markus worked around the facility. Perhaps… shit, perhaps they'd figured out who Markus was and tracked him here. Fucking hell. "Markus. The, uh, man who was on TV. He used to volunteer here. They probably tracked him to the facility. Shit. Fuck, kid, I'm sorry. Shit," Hank exclaimed softly, eyes glued to the window to the facility. Starlight let out a soft noise of annoyance, but luckily said nothing.

Hank didn't know what consequences Starlight would face if they were found here. He didn't know how far Cyber's reach went. If their influence was in the FBI. But he really didn't want to find out.

Luckily, Hank knew of a back exit out of the facility. It wasn't fun, but it beat being stopped by the FEDs.

See, the facility itself was a large, three story building surrounded by trees. There was a gate around the facility, designed not to keep the patients in (so they said), but to keep others out. Still, it had barbed wire on the top of it and cameras all around. The garden extended from the back of the facility to the fence, which wasn't that far back. Maybe ten, twenty yards. Needless to say, it was impossible to climb without being caught.

When Hank had first arrived at the facility, before Markus arrived, Hank had been bored out of his mind. The classes offered were pitiful and the people were dull. The most exciting thing that happened was one of the more intensive patients had briefly escaped their nurse's care, but had been found ten minutes later, sleeping in the laundry room. So, Hank did what he could to stay alert. He wandered the facility and found the weakest points. Not because he intended to escape (though he'd have loved to), but to know his surroundings.

He'd found the weak spot in the fence within the first month. It was a spot beneath a large tree, so it was hidden from the camera. On the ground had been loose soil, soft enough that Hank had been able to… well, dig a small hole. It was a tight fit (of course he'd tried it, but he'd immediately gone back in, okay?) but it would work well for Starlight. It was just that in order to get to it, you had to crawl under some rose bushes.

Oh, you hadn't always had to. But after Markus came, with his refurbishment, the path he'd taken had been blocked by some of the rose bushes. He could still get to the spot (yes, he'd checked. He just needed to keep his options open, alright? Jeez), but it wasn't fun. Even now, with the roses dead, the thorns would still prick them. But it would have to be done. He had brought Starlight into this mess. He'd be damned before he let them get hurt because of it.

Quickly and quietly, Hank told Starlight of the spot, telling them that it would get them out around the backside of the facility. They'd still be seen by the camera on the outside, but as long as they kept their hood up they'd be able to escape. The woods were dense enough that they would work well for cover, if needed. Starlight looked hesitant, but eventually nodded.

"Okay. I, I suppose. Shit," they muttered, looking at the window. It seemed the FEDs were looking out, making Hank think they wanted to go outside. Hank took a deep breath and looked down at Starlight.

"Hey, follow me. I'll bring you to the spot."

Moving carefully, Hank went further into the bushes, avoiding getting hit by low hanging branches. They weren't really close to the area, but they could hopefully get there without getting out in the open.

Hank made sure to keep an eye on the building at all times, hoping that the FEDs wouldn't come out just then. It took a minute, but they soon reached the rose bushes that blocked the fence. Hank turned to Starlight, indicating the bushes with his head.

"The hole is under there. You have to crawl under the bush and find a bunch of fake, green leaves on the ground. Brush them aside and you'll find the hole. Got it?"

Starlight nodded, then hesitated.

"I… thank you, Hank. I appreciate it."

The words were soft, but Hank could hear them just fine. He grunted, cheeks turning pink, nodding a little.

"Yeah, yeah. I got you in this mess. And don't be a stranger. You need anything, let me know. Can't promise I'll be able to help, but I sure as hell can try."

Starlight just smiled crookedly, nodding once. Then, they bent down and began crawling under the bushes. Hank did his best to move the bushes enough that it wouldn't get caught on their clothes, tiny thorns pricking his arms, but he could hear the soft grunts of pain they let out. Eventually, though, the grunts stopped and Hank knew they'd gone under the fence. A second later Hank saw them on the other side of the fence, looking back at Hank. They hesitated a moment, then spoke.

"Good luck, Hank. I really hope you make it."

With that, Starlight ran off, hood up over their face, dashing into the trees. Hank watched for a few minutes, long after they were out of sight, before heading back. Not like he could follow them. All he needed was back in the facility.

Taking care to brush off the leaves that had gotten on his hair and clothes, Hank carefully exited the trees, walking along the path to the sliding screen door that led inside. He could see the FEDs darting back and forth inside still, a few standing beside the sliding door. Hank raised an eyebrow at them as he approached, the flash drive he had stuck in his shoe for safe keeping digging into his heel.

"Afternoon, agents. How can I help you this fine day?" Hank drawled casually, smiling pleasantly when they approached him, hard looks on their faces.

"What were you doing out there?" One of them asked, entering Hank's personal space. Hank just shrugged casually, pleasant smile still on his lips.

"Walking. Didn't realize that was a crime, now," he commented lightly, though his eyes were hard on the officer. He'd never liked the FEDs, even as a cop. Hell, /especially/ as a cop. They were complete bastards, prancing around like they were better than everyone else. Thinking they owned the world. Pretentious bastards.

"Yeah, well, there's been an order to return to your rooms. The facility is on lock down while the FBI looks around. Head back to your room now or we'll be forced to escort you."

Fuckers. Hank didn't drop his pleasant smile, but inwardly he was cursing the fucker out six ways to Sunday. Asshole.

"Of course. Have a nice day, gentleman," Hank said, because he wasn't stupid. He walked passed them and walked the halls into the common room, figuring he might as well head back to his room to deposit his contraband. He had to stop dead as soon as he entered the common room, however, eyes widening at the sight that met him.

Rose was standing in the center of the room, glaring at an agent, a rat-faced man that had a face just begging to be punched. Dr. Allen was next to him, arms crossed, frowning at Rose.

"Honestly woman. Just tell him what he asked for. Don't make us force you," Allen stressed, eyes hard on Rose. Rose just puffed herself up, arms crossed. Hank could see Connor loitering somewhere to the right, Luther beside him. Luther was glaring at the agents, looking like he was ready to get into a fight if he had to. The man may be a gentle giant, but he still had a protective streak a mile wide. Connor just looked expressionless, resisting the officer who was trying to pull them away. Hank had no idea what was going on, but he surmised quickly it wasn't good.

"Shame on you, Dr. Allen. We trusted you, here. You were supposed to help these patients, not spy on them!"

Wait. What? Hank stared at the Doctor, wondering what Rose had meant. Spy? Wait… Hank remembered something, from back when he'd met the man, four months ago. He'd dismissed it at the time, but he could have sworn he'd recognized the man. It was impossible, but maybe…

Rose continued to glare, but Allen didn't really care. He just strode forward, getting up in her face.

"Tell us what we want to know, or this facility will be shut down and all these nut bags will be transferred to bumfuck nowhere. You understand me?" Allen growled, pushing Rose a little. Luther took a step forward at that, face thunderous, but he wasn't as quick as Hank.

Pleasant smile back on his face, Hank casually stepped between the two, forcefully pushing Allen forward while gently nudging Rose back.

"Hey there, Doctor. Something seem to be the problem?"

Hank kept his tone light, but his eyes were hard, leaving no questions as so what he was doing. Dr. Allen turned his glare to Hank.

"Leave it, Anderson. This doesn't affect you."

Hank just kept on smiling, even as his toes curled. What a fucker.

"Well, that's great. Why don't you leave the lady alone, huh? What's this about, anyway?"

He looked between Allen and the rat-faced man, who took a step forward.

"We just had a few questions to ask. This doesn't have to be so complicated. If Dr. Chapman would just comply, things would go easier. Okay?"

The FED had a beguiling look on his face, holding his hands up in a patronizing manner. God, what a fucker. Rose let out a soft noise of anger.

"You want me to betray my patient's confidentiality. Which, I'd like to remind you, is illegal," she stressed, glaring at the doctor.

"Well, good thing I'm not really a doctor, isn't it?" Allen sneered, pulling out a badge. Ah, fucking hell. A cop?

Hank stared long and hard at the man, eyes scrutinizing his face. It took him a second, but he finally placed where he'd seen it before.

"Well, if it isn't Captain fucking Allen. I thought you'd looked familiar," Hank growled, hands curled. Fucker had a reputation for working with the FEDs, taking long, intensive undercover cases, pretending to be all kinds of people. Hank had never met the man but had seen his picture once. Back when he'd still been a beat cop, actually. He supposed it made sense why the doctor never seemed to actually have any patients, at least. He just did intakes and group work. The captain just grinned, teeth sharp.

"In the flesh. Now, Rose. Don't make this harder than it has to be. Just tell us what you know about Markus's whereabouts and we'll be fine."

Rose shook her head again, emphatic, glare intensifying. Hank saw her son out of the corner of his eyes, being held back by one of the FEDs, eyes concerned.

"Just tell them, mom! Who cares about these freaks, anyway?"

Rose turned to her son, expression hard.

"Adam! They're people too! They might be different than us, but they have a right to privacy! I will not say a single word to anyone."

The rat-faced FED came forward then, placing a hand on Rose's shoulder. It was supposed to be soothing, but it was anything but. It made Hank tense, wanting to rip the man away from Rose. Hank may never have been the closest to Rose, but he liked her well enough. She was a good sort.

"Look. We just want to know where he is. He's not even your patient anymore. Just think about it, alright? Now, in the meantime, I'd like to talk to that one over there, if you don't mind?" The FED said, gesturing carelessly over to Connor. That made Hank stiffen, pleasant smile finally dropping off his face. Rose, he could maintain his cool over. But Connor? Hank moved between the bastard and Connor, glare intense.

"The fuck you want with him?" Hank bit out, hands in fists. The FED just raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. They stared at one another for a second before Hank felt a soft hand touch his shoulder. Hank turned his head and saw Connor, his face as smooth as stone.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'll be fine. Where would you like to talk, Special Agent Perkins?" Connor spoke pleasantly, face cut off. Hank's shoulders stiffened further, causing Connor to look at him. The blank look on the other's face melted for a second as he looked at Hank, a soft smile lighting his features.

"Don't worry, Hank. I have nothing to hide. I don't mind talking to him. I'll be fine," Connor said softly, eyes warm as they looked at Hank. Hank struggled against his mind but knew he couldn't stop him. Not without seeming suspicious. He didn't like it, especially with how the FED, Perkins, had looked at Connor. Like he was nothing. But it was Connor's choice.

Hank still wasn't sure what was going on, the whole thing a mess. Rose was still standing in the center of the room, wringing her hands as she looked with worry between Perkins and Connor. Luther stood tall in the corner, looming over the group, keeping watch. Intimidating. Various agents were scattered around the room, some nurses frowning as they looked between everything. All he knew was that he had to protect Connor. To keep Connor safe. It gutted him that he'd be unable to.

So he turned to face the kid and brushed the back of his hand gently against Connor's cheek, forcing his body to relax.

"Yeah," he muttered, head bent slightly to make the moment more private. "Okay. Stay safe, okay? Fuckers like that will do anything to get a rise out of you. Don't let him, yeah?"

Hank spoke softly, so no one else could hear. Connor just smiled and nodded so slightly that it went undetected by the others. Connor hesitated a second, then leaned up to kiss Hank's cheek softly. Hank's mind almost shorted out when those lips pressed against his rough cheek, but he forced himself to snap out of it when Connor's lips trailed up to his ear and the kid whispered something so soft that Hank almost missed it.

"Hide the laptop," Connor breathed, before moving back, smile in place. Hank's eyes were wide, but he nodded imperceptibly. Hank looked at the agent, who had a look on his face like he'd eaten something rotten. Fucker was homophobic, huh? Well, good. Fuck him.

"Alright. Come on, then. I don't have all day," Perkins groused, sneer on his face.

"Uh huh. Yeah. Nice to meet you, too. Have a nice day," Hank said with false cheer, pleasant smile tight on his lips. What a fucking prick. Hank watched as Connor followed after the man, movements stiff, like an android's. Hank hated seeing the kid so uncomfortable, but there wasn't much he could do.

With that, some of the tension in the room left, Rose looking more concerned than he'd ever seen her. Luther was also frowning, staring after Connor and Perkins, even after the two disappeared from sight. Well. At least he knew he wasn't the only one who cared about the kid. That was nice.

Finding no reason to stay in the common room any longer, Hank headed to the stairs, headed for his room. He had to put his flash drive in his hiding area, and then he could place the laptop where he kept his booze. There weren't many places to hide things in their small room, but he made do.

As he headed up, he noticed a bunch of FEDs looking around the place, knocking on doors. Hoping they hadn't reached his and Connor's room yet, Hank sped up. It didn't take long to reach the room, and luckily no one had seemed to have raided it. Unfortunately, the FEDs were literally right next door and would likely knock on their door soon. Shit.

Doing his best to look like he wasn't hurrying, he nodded politely at the agents and quickly headed into the room, closing the door behind him. He then made a beeline to Connor's bedside table, where he kept the laptop Markus had given him. It looked so unassuming, Hank thought, holding it in his hands. They made these things so fucking light nowadays. He still remembered the big chunky things that had come out when he'd been in his late twenties. He couldn't figure the things out then and couldn't figure them out now.

The laptop in hand, Hank moved to the bathroom, to the mirror. It took some effort, but he was able to wiggle the thing off, showing a thin area that he could place hidden things. As he was putting the laptop in the space, he heard a loud, insistent knock on the door, causing a spark of anxiety to rush through him. Jeez. He couldn't imagine how the more intensive patients were dealing with this when it was even making him nervous. And he was a fucking cop.

Not having time to put the flash drive away, Hank carefully placed the mirror back, taking his time. It wouldn't do to put the thing back shoddily and have them discover the spot.

"Hold your horses, I'm in the bathroom! Give me a second," he shouted to the agents. The knocking paused, giving him time to place the mirror back. He gave it a once over, moving it around a little to make sure it wouldn't move without a great deal of force. Once satisfied, he went over to the toilet and flushed it, turning the faucet on for ten seconds. Might as well sell his sort of lie.

Opening the door, Hank put his faux pleasant smile back on, feeling like he was a cop again. Having to play nice with the FEDs. Fuck he hated it.

"Afternoon, agents. What seems to be the problem?"

There were two agents standing outside his room, looking unimpressed with his attempt at small talk.

"We're looking through all the rooms in the facility for connections to the activist Markus Manfred. Would you mind letting us in?"

Hank's smile tightened, but he tried not to let his anger show.

"You have a warrant?" Hank asked, because he knew his rights. The FEDs produced a warrant for him to look at, of course, but Hank decided to waste their time by reading it carefully. After a moment, one of the agents spoke, voice annoyed.

"It's legitimate," he stressed, eyes hard. His partner, a thin-faced woman, just frowned at him.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. Just gotta make sure I know what it says, ya know? Used to be a cop, youngest Lieutenant to ever be on the DPD," Hank grinned, knowing these fuckers wouldn't care. FEDs thought themselves so much more special than cops. Like he expected, the FEDs just looked bored and annoyed. Good. They were inconveniencing him. Might as well inconvenience them.

After a minute, Hank finished looking over the document, which was indeed legit, and handed it back. He stepped back and did a grand sweep of the room.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said sarcastically, smile sharp. "Please don't break anything."

The agents just gave him a disgruntled look and entered the room, searching the area thoroughly. Hank stood casually in the corner, arms crossed, doing his best to not seem suspicious. He'd done enough of these raids to know that any hint of resistance from a suspect would instantly make him search the place that much harder. While a lot of people were just nervous about having a cop show up, half the time resistance or nerves indicated a guilty party. Then again, people who were overly calm were also suspicious. So you needed a careful balance of calm and uncomfortable.

The raid took about ten minutes in full, Hank's heart pounding when they entered the bathroom. From his spot he couldn't really see in, so he had just waited with bated breath as they searched the room, letting it out when they exited a couple minutes later, finding nothing of interest there. So they hadn't found either of his hiding places. Good.

Soon after the agents had left the room, off to harass other mentally ill patients. Assholes. I mean, Hank got it. They were just doing their job, and Markus kind of did break the law by breaking into the Stratford tower, and a bunch of cops did die when that security guard shot at them. But still. It made things harder for Hank. Which… was probably the point. Shit.

Abandoning that train of thought, Hank took a seat on his bed and carefully took the flash drive out of his shoe. It was such an unassuming thing to hold such precious and important information on it… Hank almost couldn't believe such a small thing could possibly solve their problems. The wonders of technology, huh?

He got off the bed and went back to the bathroom, prying open the tile that hid his smaller valuables. It mostly held a folded picture of Cole and his old wedding band. He'd told Connor about the space in case the kid had anything he needed to hide. Connor had declined but had said he appreciated the thought.

Taking the tile out, Hank was surprised to see a small black… /thing/ on top of the folded picture of Cole. Picking it up, Hank turned it over in his hands, trying to place what it was. It looked like… what are they called, ear phones? Hearing buds? But there was only one of them.

Ah, he realized, looking at it closer. This must be the thing Connor used to contact Markus. Hank briefly thought about using it to contact Markus himself, but reasoned he'd probably mess it up. He barely knew how to use his old Android, let alone such a tiny thing like the ear… thingy. So he placed it back down and put his flash drive inside. Hank hesitated for a second, then took out the old folded photo, looking at the face of his too young son.

God he missed him. Things were so fucked up now. Conspiracies and corrupt FBI agents. Super humans who were being brained washed. Things had been so simple, three years prior, the only challenges being Hank trying to figure out how to raise a child while being a cop, and while being old and tired. He ached to go back to those days, when Cole was the only thing that mattered. When he wasn't knee deep in conspiracies.

But… but, if he did go back to those days, he'd never have met Connor. And while Cole would always rank higher than Connor in his heart, because Cole was his little boy, he didn't regret meeting Connor. He had a feeling it was safe to say he loved the kid. Maybe not as strong as it could become, but there was love there. He loved Connor. Shit.

Hank ran a hand through his hair, the long strands smooth on his fingers. He consciously didn't seek out his scar, just letting his hand run through the silver locks. He remembered the first time he'd gotten a gray hair, after Cole had been born. He'd been so distressed. Now he didn't give a fuck. Who cared? With a sign, he placed the photo back, returning the tile to its original space. He then moved out of the bathroom and over to the bed, sitting down, staring at the wall.

After several minutes of staring, his mind going over everything that had happened over the past week and a half, he heard the door creak open, causing him to jump up and turn to face the intruder. His heart clenched when he saw Connor, looking so small and fragile in the doorway. Hank couldn't put his finger on what, but something in Connor just looked put upon.

Connor looked up at him, eyes wide and sad. Hank couldn't help the way his body moved around the bed, legs moving without conscious thought, heading over to Connor. He reached the kid in less than a second and pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping around the kid tightly. He felt thin arms wrap tightly around him in return, a face hiding itself into his neck, warm breath fanning over him. Ignoring the way his body tingled at the sensation, Hank just held on tight, pulling them back only so he could close the door.

The pair stood like that for several minutes before Connor reluctantly pulled away, eyes tired and oh so sad. Hank hated the look. It wasn't right for Connor to look so worn down.

Hank gently directed the kid over to his bed, guiding the kid to take a seat. He knelt in front of him, looking him in the eye.

"Hey. What happened?" He asked softly, hand reaching up to grab Connor's. Connor just looked down to the ground, hand clenched tight.

"He. He wanted to know Markus's location. He didn't believe me when I said I didn't know. Claimed he knew I was working with them. Then he…" Connor paused, taking a shaky breath. He looked up at Hank, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "He said that he would make things hard for Amanda if I didn't comply. If I didn't tell him the truth. He said that she was ashamed of me, that I was a disappointment. I, I still refused to say anything, but… I don't know. I wish this wasn't so hard. I had thought… I had /hoped/ that this would be enough. That things would be better now. But it's not. It's actually harder. In so many ways."

Connor looked down at that, eyes closing tight.

"He, he threatened you, too, Hank. Said he'd transfer you to a mental facility down south, where they would 'cure' you of your attraction to men. He also said he would make sure you'd never leave there, never be allowed visitors… I, I almost gave in, then. But I… Hank I'm sorry, but I couldn't!" Connor exclaimed, eyes opening, looking back at Hank. The shine in them had increased, and Hank was sure he'd lose it if Connor started to cry. So he lifted a hand and caressed Connor's cheek, like he would to Cole when he'd cry. He shushed the kid, shifting so he could look him straight in the eyes.

"Hey, don't you worry about me, kid. I have connections that would protect me. That bastard may be FBI, but I was a Lieutenant of the DPD. He can't threaten me, okay? And as for Amanda, I'm sure she can protect herself. This is bigger than either of us, though. I can't say I'm 100 percent sure on what Cyber is, or what they do, but from what I can gather they're pretty bad. And they have you under their thumb. If this gets them to face justice… well, then fuck everything else. Do what you think is right, kid. Not what is easy."

Hank watched as Connor's face screwed up, and for a second he thought he'd fucked up and made the kid cry. But a second later Connor let out a soft, if wet, laugh, looking at Hank with shining eyes.

"I… yes. You're right. I'm just… scared," Connor whispered, like it was a horrible secret. Hank caressed his cheek, thumb rubbing a soothing circle.

"Understandable. This shit is fucking terrifying. But things can't get better if they don't get a little worse first," Hank stated, relaying a fact that had gotten him through a lot in his life. Connor considered that, before nodding.

"Yes. I, I suppose. Thank you, Hank. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Connor smiled at him then, his hand reaching up to grab the one Hank had on his cheek. Hank's heart sped up, but he did his best to smile back.

"Y-yeah. Yeah." Hank coughed, trying to get his throat to unstick. "Anyway, I have news. You remember this morning, with the phone call?"

Connor nodded carefully, letting Hank's hand go. Hank let his own hand fall, though part of him mourned the loss of contact. He didn't know if now was the right time to tell Connor about the flash drive, but he figured if not then, then when? And maybe it would cheer the kid up, having a goal to work on.

"Well, it panned out," Hank continued, standing and moving over to the bathroom. He nodded over at Connor to follow him, which the kid did. He headed for the tile he'd just put back and took it out, carefully extracting the flash drive. He held it out to Connor, who looked confused.

"Hank, what is this?"

Hank grinned in response, placing the tile back.

"That, my dear Connor, is a flash drive containing the access key to Cyber's messaging system. After what happened on Friday I made a few calls, asking around for information on the company. An old friend, Jimmy, pointed me in the direction of a person named Starlight. I met them on Sunday, after we spent the afternoon with Alice and Sumo, and they said they used to work for Cyber, sending messages out to the various models, or whatever. I asked if a person could send messages out en masse, and apparently, you can. But you need an access key. Which, I just so happen to now have," Hank finished, grin on his face. The grin slipped off when he saw the wide-eyed look on Connor's face, the kid's face pure white, looking almost terrified. "Shit. Kid, what's wrong? Is that not good? I don't-"

Hank was cut off when he felt arms wrap around his shoulders, a warm body pressing up against his own. It took his mind a second to comprehend the contact, but when it did he wrapped his arms back around Connor, hugging the kid for the second time that day. This one was nicer, though. To Hank, at least.

It didn't last long, though, Connor pulling back a moment later, eyes still wide but the color returning to his cheeks. The pair still had their arms wrapped loosely around each other.

"How did you get this? Does anyone know you have it?" Connor demanded, a touch of fear entering his wide brown eyes. Hank shook his head, raising a hand to push a strand of hair that had fallen into Connor's eyes away.

"No, I don't think so. And Starlight, my contact, they brought it. They said their friend who had given it had been caught but they still were able to escape with the key. No one has seen me with it."

The words calmed the worry in Connor's eyes, his body relaxing beneath Hank's hands, head falling to rest against Hank's shoulder. He heard a soft laugh escape the kid, the hands on his shoulders pressing tighter. Connor lifted his head and looked back at Hank with a wide grin on his face, eyes illuminated. Hank had to catch his breath, the expression causing such wicked feelings to arise in him.

"This… Hank, this will fix /everything/. If we can get into the warehouse and send a message to every person Cyber has modified… we would have so much proof that they'd never be able to deny their existence. And everyone like me, everyone who was forced to get these modifications, told it was the only way, the right way…" Connor trailed off, eyes bright as he looked at Hank.

"/Hank,/ thank you. I, I can't, I can't explain what this means. To me. To us, to all of us. I knew you were important. I knew it," Connor breathed, looking at Hank like he had done something amazing. Like he was amazing.

Fucking. Shit. Had the room lost all the air or was it just him? Because suddenly he was having a hard time breathing. And his chest hurt. Not a good hurt, either. It was painful. This had been what he had wanted. To be useful. To have value. So why did he hurt so much?

Hank let go of Connor and felt himself stumble back, only stopping when his legs hit the edge of the toilet, forcing him to sit awkwardly. He tried his hardest to breathe, putting his head between his knees. He heard Connor call to him, worry clear in his voice, but he couldn't find it in him to respond.

Why was he so upset at this? Hadn't he wanted Connor to look at him like that, like he mattered? Wasn't that why he'd done all of this? But… but it just hurt.

He didn't deserve it, a small voice whispered in his ear. He hadn't done anything. Starlight had done all the work. All Hank had done was call them, ask impossible requests of them. Hank had done nothing. He deserved /nothing/. He was nothing.

Hank gasped at the thought, back going rigid. He started when he felt a hesitant hand touch his shoulder, causing his head to shoot up, eyes meeting concerned brown ones. Connor was kneeling on the floor in front of him, a reversal of their earlier position, Connor the strong one now. God. How pathetic. Taking strength from someone who'd gone through so much. Fucking asshole. Hank was such an asshole.

"Hank, I… I'm sorry if I said something that hurt you. I, I really didn't mean to," Connor stammered, eyes earnest. It gutted Hank that the kid thought it was his fault. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he tried to smile. It came out more like a grimace, but it made Connor relax a little.

"Hey, this, this ain't your fault kid. It's me. My fucking, my worthless brain telling me stupid shit. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just, give me a minute, okay?"

Connor nodded carefully, standing and giving Hank a little space.

Okay. What was the thing that Rose had told him to do? That CBT bullshit? How did it go again?

Something like…

Negative thought/belief: I'm a fucking pathetic waste of space.

Where/when: bathroom, after Connor looked at me like I mattered.

How does it make me feel?: Like I don't deserve anything. Like I'm destined to die alone and miserable.

Alternative thought…

Well, that was a good question. Hank thought about it, feeling his breathing return to normal as he thought on it. He looked up at Connor, who was looking at him with such concern. Who looked like he cared so much.

Alternative thought: Connor cares about me and finds worth in me. It may take time, but maybe one day I'll care too. Maybe I'll find worth in myself.

How does this thought make me feel?: hopeful. Like one day I might not feel like this anymore.

Okay. Okay. That was something. Taking one last deep breath, Hank gave Connor another smile, this one much more genuine. Connor smiled back, hesitant yet beautiful.

"I'm sorry, kid. I just needed a second. Anyway, do you have a way to contact Markus?" Hank questioned, standing and moving over to the window. He couldn't be so close to Connor, still feeling a little raw. It would be better to detach a little, focus on work. Connor seemed to understand Hank's motives, for he stayed back in the doorway to the bathroom, nodding once. He still looked concerned, but he mercifully didn't bring it up.

"I might. It might not work, but I'll try."

Alright. So that was something. They had a plan. It wasn't much but it was something.

"Great. Starlight said that only an advanced model could understand the access key, let alone enter the warehouse. I don't know what the fuck that means, but I'm hoping you do?"

Connor nodded thoughtfully, looking down at the flash drive still in his hand.

"Yes, I do. So does Markus, I believe. This will do so much good, Hank. I promise you."

Connor smiled at Hank again, and this time it didn't hurt. This time it felt… pretty fucking good, if he was being honest.

"Good. Good. So, you should put that back behind the tile. While the FBI is here it's not safe to keep it out. Contact Markus and you guys can figure out who can bring it to the warehouse," Hank said, figuring it was a good course of action. "Oh, and it has to be done soon. The access key becomes worthless after Friday at midnight."

Connor nodded in reply, saying nothing as he headed to the bathroom to presumably place the flash drive back. When Connor didn't return in a minute, Hank got curious and headed to the bathroom. He found Connor standing in front of the open hole, holding a small piece of paper in his hand. After a second he realized what he was holding. It was Cole's photo.

Connor looked up with startled eyes, hurriedly putting the photo down. Guilt crept onto his face.

"Hank! I, I'm sorry. I hadn't-"

Hank cut Connor off before he could finish, shaking his head. Maybe a week ago he'd have been angry. But now? Now he didn't care. In fact, part of him was glad Connor saw the picture. That Connor could share in that part of his life.

"Don't worry, kid. It's fine. That, uh. That's my son. Cole," he said, voice a little stiff. Connor stared at him, then looked away to put the flash drive back, ears turning red.

"Oh," Connor whispered after the tile was placed back. A moment of silence passed between them, before Hank let out a loud sigh, the tension too much for him to take.

"Jesus, it's fine kid. Don't worry about it. Now come on, we have to find a way to pass the time while the FEDs finish their work. Know any games?"

After that, the pair moved to the bed, playing a bunch of nonsense games to pass the hours before they got a knock on the door saying the FBI had left for the day. They played childhood games like 20 questions and I spy. It was stupid, but Connor made it seem like fun, the kid very competitive, it seemed. It was cute, seeing how invested he got in stupid little games.

Things weren't perfect. In fact, things were pretty tense. While the FBI had finished their raid, there were still a few agents posted around the facility, in case Markus came back. And Hank would bet anything that Perkins, that rat bastard, would be back.

But they had hope. The world had been informed about Cyber. If Connor was able to contact Markus and found someone who was able to use the access key, they would have a ton of leverage against Cyber. While it may not have been his fight at first, Hank would willingly die for this cause.

He just hoped he wouldn't have to.


	16. No Backward Glances

Hey all!

Next chapter up. The title of this chapter comes from the song The Point of No Return, from the Phantom of the Opera. The last line of the chapter reminded me of the song.

Please review! I have no idea if anyone is even still reading this story or not, so reviewing will help me know if y'all like it or not. Thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

Connor stared down at the little earpiece he'd just extracted from his ear, frown prominent on his face.

Apparently, contacting Markus was not as easy as he had hoped it would be. Markus hadn't left any way to contact them on the laptop, expect for a single highly encrypted photo that he hadn't been able to crack, and the earpiece wasn't connected on the other side. He supposed it made sense, given how the FBI had shown up (and wasn't that nerve wracking?), but it made it that much harder to tell the man about the access key.

Even thinking about the key, though, made a bubble of excitement rise up in Connor. It was perfect. He'd heard of the messaging facility before, though he'd never been to the proper sub level. If he could get a message out to everyone Cyber had worked on… it would free thousands of his people in one fell swoop.

And to think Hank had been the one to figure this plan out… Connor always knew that Hank would be an asset in their fight, but this just proved it. Connor couldn't help the warmth he felt when he thought of the man, smile finding its way on his face despite his frustrations at not being able to contact Markus.

Connor still didn't know quite what he felt for Hank, but God was it strong. It made his insides tingle when he even thought of the man, heart full to bursting. When Hank had shown him the flash drive and told him what it was… he had felt an intense desire to kiss the man, so strong he had almost listened to it. He had turned it into a hug at the last second, but God had he wanted to kiss him. He'd been stunned at first, unable to comprehend the words, but as soon as he understood exactly what it meant he had been so ecstatic.

After what had happened with Special Agent Perkins, his cool, threatening words… it had been amazing. To know that they had one last trick up their sleeves.

Connor had felt so hopeless when Perkins had spoken to him the day prior, his eyes hard and uncaring on Connor. He'd told Connor such horrible things, trying to get him to talk. The interrogation only lasted twenty minutes, until Rose demanded they stop harassing her patient, but it had left him feeling cold inside. The idea that Hank could be sent away, where he'd never see him again…

President Warren had still not given a statement about Cyber. From what Connor could tell, the whole world was buzzing about the news but the president had remained ominously silent on the matter. Connor knew why. She was involved deeply in Cyber and CyberLife. A lot of her funding for her campaign had come from the company and its subset. Connor figured that she must be intimately involved in Cyber's workings and didn't want the Company's existence to become public knowledge.

Which, he reminded himself as he looked back down at the earpiece in his hand, was why he had to contact Markus immediately. He'd taken a quick look on the computer earlier that morning, at around 3:00 AM, and had found that the popular social media sites seemed to show that they had the public favor. But quite a few people were doubting the validity of Markus's words. If they didn't come out with a hard hitter, and if the president denied the existence of the Company… President Warren was a charismatic lady; when she spoke, people tended to believe her. If she denied Cyber…

They'd lose the war. And yes, Connor felt. It was a war. This would end badly if something didn't happen. If the public ignored what Cyber was doing, then Cyber would just make things harder for those under its control. They'd let Markus go, for lack of a better word. They knew where he had been hiding and hadn't done anything to him for years. But after all this, Markus and people like Markus (and now him) would be murdered. Anyone who defied Cyber would be hunted down and slaughtered.

The thought chilled Connor, fist clenching around the earpiece. For most of his life, the thought of death hadn't scare Connor. It was… inevitable. Everyone died. Why bother fear it? But now, now that Connor had something he wanted to live for, now that he finally knew what it meant to truly be 'alive…' he didn't want to die. In fact, the thought terrified him. What would happen to Hank if he died? What would happen to _him_ if he died? Would he go to heaven? Would heaven even accept a person like him?

So this had to work. He had to contact Markus and tell him about the key. And if he couldn't… then he'd have to finish this plan by himself. He'd done enough solo missions that it wouldn't be hard. He just hoped he wouldn't have to.

Unclenching his fist, Connor stood and moved to put the earpiece away. As he was placing the tile back, nice and secure, he heard a knock at the door. Connor frowned, taking a look at the time. It was only 3:30. Dinner wasn't until 6:00, and he'd already had lunch at noon. Hank wouldn't need to knock on the door, so who was looking for him? Connor's heart froze when he wondered if it was Perkins again, wanting another chance to interrogate him. God, he hoped not. The knock sounded again, a bit more impatient this time, causing Connor to scramble to open it. Best not to aggravate whoever it was.

"Coming!" He called, arriving at the door in five seconds flat. He opened the door with a strained smile, relaxing a little when he saw it was just one of the orderlies, a kind faced older gentleman.

"Good afternoon, Connor. You have a visitor today. A stern looking African American woman. She's waiting for you in the common room when you're ready," the man said, smiling. Connor tried to smile back, but his heart had stopped.

There was only one woman fitting that description who'd come to specifically to visit him. Even as part of him hoped he was wrong, most of him knew his assumption had to be correct.

"Oh! Of, of course. I'll be right down," Connor replied. Then he closed the door and tried to calm his racing heart.

Okay. Alright. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting this. Amanda would never just let him go. Not without showing how disappointed she was in him. Not without, without _punishing_ him. So it wasn't like this was completely out of the blue.

But it did not bode well for him. He'd never been able to lie to Amanda. Not fully. She always saw through him. But he'd have to lie, now. She was bound to ask the same sort of questions Perkins did, but she would be so much more affective.

Taking deep breaths, Connor did what he had always done as a child and pushed everything down. The panic. The fear. It was useless to feel such things. Useless to worry. Once his mind was clear of emotion, he created a course of action. He devised a plan and would follow it completely.

It took him five minutes to prepare, then he opened his door and headed for the common room. He ignored everyone he passed, shoulders back, neck held high, back stiff and straight. Like he used to always walk, before coming here. Before meeting Hank. It almost felt foreign, despite the fact he had walked like this for the vast majority of his life.

As he exited the staircase, he looked around the room, eyes falling on the one person he knew best, and yet knew absolutely nothing about.

She was sitting primly in one of the green chairs, hands folded neatly on her lap, face devoid of all emotion. Her black hair was pulled back, away from her face, exaggerating the harsh lines. Her eyes were shrewd as they looked around the room, distaste clear in the way her mouth was set. Connor pushed down the rush of anxiety and walked stiffly over to the woman.

"Amanda. Hello. It is good to see you," Connor claimed, voice mechanical. Amanda looked up at him at that, eyes cool, hints of disapproval entering them. Connor felt nothing as he looked at her. At least, that's what he forced himself to feel.

"Connor. I wish I could say the same."

Cool. Detached. Disapproving. Connor continued to stand, staring into the foreground. He could never take that look from her. Even as a child.

"Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Well. That was surprising. She wished to speak here? Not somewhere private? Connor pushed down his surprises and did as she said, taking a seat in the chair that had been pulled up in front of hers. He sat with his hands firmly in his lap, mirroring her, not fidgeting at all.

"I've been hearing some… interesting things about you, Connor. I'd like to ask you about them."

Connor pushed down his slowly mounting fear and looked emotionlessly at Amanda.

"Of course, Amanda," he intoned, putting a pleasant, absent smile on his lips. Amanda nodded, turning imperceptibly towards him, all her attention focused on him.

"I've heard that you've been helping Markus and his cause. Tell me, Connor. Is this true?"

Connor took a second to process the words, then went into the excuse he'd decided on before coming down to meet Amanda.

"Technically yes, it is. I've been offering my assistance to Markus in order to get him and his friends to trust me, but only so that I may complete my mission."

It made sense. That way he technically wasn't lying, just bending the truth. Amanda frowned at him, suspicious.

"You mean the mission you failed?"

Connor ignored the stab of displeasure that hit him at the accusing words, instead nodding shortly.

"Yes. I wished to rectify my mistake."

Amanda stayed quiet for a moment, scrutinizing Connor.

"So you helped them expose the Company in order to succeed in your mission?" Amanda questioned, voice even. Connor didn't react, just shook his head.

"Amanda, I would never," he insisted, putting only a hint of emotion in his voice. Very controlled, though. "I wanted them to trust me so I could stop their plans. I had gotten close, but ultimately they kept their plans hidden from me. All I knew was that they had planned to expose the Company. That is all."

Amanda hummed softly in consideration, before standing carefully. The room had started to fill, making their conversation no longer private. Connor stood as well, adjusting his shirt cuffs as he did. The only show of nerves he would allow. Amanda started walking towards the hall while Connor trailed behind.

"Come, Connor. Let us take a walk through the garden outside," Amanda said, not bothering to look and see if Connor followed or not. Connor did, of course. He had no other choice.

They reached the gardens soon, Connor holding the door open for his pseudo mother, following a few steps behind her. The air was cold, snow falling lightly, but neither reacted to it. They just sauntered around the dead rose bushes, saying nothing.

After five minutes had passed, Amanda stopped at a small table and chair set that stood in the center of the garden, away from prying eyes. Connor held out the seat for her as she took a seat gracefully, gesturing for Connor to do the same. Connor did, rounding the table and sitting as gracefully as possible. He'd done his best to keep a tight grasp on his emotions, eyes blank as he looked at the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother. After another minute of silence, she spoke.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Connor. I fear that you've forgotten our mission."

Connor couldn't stop the way his heart clenched at her cool words, a minute flinch marring his emotionless demeanor. He hated disappointing Amanda. While he no longer believed in the Company, there was still a part of him that loved the woman. That wanted her to be proud of him. Amanda saw the flinch, her frown deepening.

"I, I would never forget the mission, Amanda. I promise you."

Amanda just stared coolly at him, before looking away at the bushes.

"I should hope not. You had such promise, Connor. My crowning achievement. The most advanced prototype the Company has ever created. It would be such a shame if you forgot what it is we are trying to do here," she stated. Connor's heart tugged, but he mercilessly pushed the feeling away. Emotions were useless. He had to remember that here.

"I understand, Amanda. I will never forget."

Amanda returned her eyes to him, blank and cold. Connor returned the gaze.

"Good. So tell me. Were you able to find out where they are hiding?"

At least he could be honest here. Shaking his head, Connor looked Amanda in the eye as he spoke.

"Unfortunately not. I was unable to gain their trust enough to get them to tell me much of anything. I tried to hack into Dr. Chapman's computer to figure out what she might know, since they seem close to her, but I was interrupted by Captain Allen."

There. That should tie up any last loose ends. That way, if Amanda was in contact with the Captain, he had a reason for why he was in Rose's office alone. As soon as he was finished speaking, the slight tension that had been in Amanda's shoulders released, the suspicion in her eyes fading. Connor could almost see the blue arrow in the corner of his vision, stating that he'd upgraded from "suspicious" to "trusted" once more. He didn't let his relief show.

"I see. Very well, Connor. I believe you. But you don't have to worry about Markus any longer. I've assigned your mission to Nines. He will finish what you started. After this is all over, I will make sure you can return home to us," she stated, voice softer than it had previously been. Her version of affection.

Connor carefully didn't show the fear that he felt. While he might have gained sympathy towards Markus and the cause, his brother never would. He was the perfect soldier, following orders to a tee. He had no idea what he'd do if he had to face off against his older brother. While they'd never been close, he could now admit that he felt some amount of affection towards the man.

Swallowing thickly, Connor nodded quick, putting a pleasant smile on his face.

"Of course. I'll wait here for the news. If you have need of me, I will be more than able to help."

Amanda nodded at that, before moving the conversation to more, seemingly pointless, topics. But Connor knew what she was doing. Testing him, his emotions. She would do this all the time, growing up. It meant she wanted to see how good he could force his emotions away. Or hose good he was able to lie. This went on for ten minutes, before she stopped, staring calmly at the bushes. Connor didn't move a muscle as she stared, mind blank as he awaited her further instruction.

Finally, after several long minutes, Amanda stood gracefully. Connor stood as well and took the arm she proffered to him, the pair wandering the garden, like they used to do at the house, when he still believed in the cause. The only difference was that this time, the world was cold and dead, frozen over with dreams of better times.

Eventually they made their way to the glass door that marked the entrance to the facility. Connor held the door open and watched as Amanda entered, following soon after. He ignored the ice that had entered his heart as they wandered back to the common room. In fact, he was so focused on remaining emotionless that he almost ran into someone who had also been trying to enter the common room. He was able to stop himself on time thanks to his proximity sensors, but the other person wasn't, causing the pair to collide. His heart simultaneously skyrocketed and plummeted when he heard the muffled curse let out, the gruff voice more than familiar.

"Ah, fuck. Watch where you're going," Hank grumbled, too focused on whatever he was looking at to realize who he had bumped into. Connor fidgeted, as Amanda looked back, eyebrow raised.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I will endeavor to be more careful next time."

Well, that got Hank's attention. Connor watched as Hank's eyes widened, a huge grin forming on his face as he took in Connor. Despite how his heart raced, Connor made sure to keep his face blank, painfully aware of Amanda's presence a couple feet away.

"Kid! Hey! Whatcha doing here? I thought you were, you know…" Hank trailed off, eyes darting over to Amanda, seeming to notice her for the first time. Hank shut his mouth at that, face turning neutral as he recognized Connor's tension for what it was. Amanda didn't let it go, of course, walking over and taking Connor's arm, smiling her emotionless smile. Connor could have sworn he saw Hank shudder, but if he did, the man controlled himself a second later, offering the woman a pleasant smile.

"Connor. Who is this?" Amanda questioned, shrewd eyes eyeing Connor coolly. Connor looked at her, then back to Hank, who looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Amanda. This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He is my roommate here. Lieutenant, this is Amanda, my adoptive mother."

Connor did his best to sound detached, like he didn't care about what was happening. Hank gave him an odd look for it, but nodded slowly.

"Hey. It's, uh, nice to meet you. Connor's mentioned you before."

Hank sounded awkward, but held out his hand in greeting. Amanda looked at it and daintily put her hand within his, mouth tight when Hank shook it once.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Amanda intoned, cool eyes sliding away from Hank in obvious dismissal.

Connor wished he could smile genuinely at Hank, to let him know it was okay, that Amanda was just Like That, but he couldn't. Not unless he wanted Amanda to see just how much he cared for Hank. And that would be dangerous, for both of them. She wouldn't accept his excuse of wanting to befriend Hank to make life easier. She'd think it pointless. And maybe it had been pointless. Maybe he'd never wanted to befriend Hank to make life easier. Maybe he'd simply wanted to befriend Hank, even at the start, before he'd broken free of Cyb- the Company's mentality.

Connor blinked at the mental correction. Even now he hated calling the Company by its name, having spent so many years having it ingrained in him to call it 'the Company' while in public. If they won, how long would it take to erase all of those tiny, insignificant orders?

Putting his distressing thoughts aside, Connor nodded stiffly at Hank as Amanda continued walking, turning his eyes back to the common room as she led him, feeling Hank's eyes boring into his back. He walked Amanda to the entrance of the facility, no words passing between them. Before she exited, Connor holding open the door between the facility proper and the waiting room, she turned to him, eyes hard once more.

"I hope that you don't disappoint me further, Connor. I'm looking forward to having you return home. It would be a shame if things should fall apart now."

With that, Amanda calmly exited the facility, Connor staring after her with wide eyes, heart pounding. It wasn't until one of the nurses asked him if he was alright that he broke out of his trance, nodding stiffly as he went back into the facility proper. He marched back to his room, eyes fixed ahead of him, shoulders tense and taut. He didn't stop for anyone, not that anyone tried to stop him. He distantly hear Hank calling him once he entered the common room, but didn't stop even then. He needed to be alone.

Finally arriving in his shared room, Connor let out the sob that had been trapped in his throat for the past forty-five minutes, hand rising to try and muffle the cursed sound. Emotion was pointless, he tried to remind himself, tears crowding his eyes. It just distracted from the mission, he told himself, as the tears began to fall.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push away the sorrow that flooded him. He couldn't ignore the pain that seeing Amanda had caused within his heart. Once, all he had ever wanted was to please her. For her to look at him with warmth and pride, glad he was her son. But it had never happened. The most he'd ever gotten was a soft look of approval. And now, because of his wavering loyalty, he'd never have the chance to make her proud. If he ever had the ability to.

For some reason, the thought gutted him. No, he no longer could say he agreed with the Company, with-with _Cyber_ any longer. But… it hurt. Knowing he'd never get the one thing he'd always desired most. Amanda's love.

More tears fell as he finally allowed himself to think his shameful, hidden desire. Love was useless, Amanda had said to him the one time he'd told her he loved her, when he'd been five. She had beaten him, then, claiming that it would only make him stronger. He hadn't understood at the time, tears streaming down his round, childish face. But she hadn't stopped, not until all his tears had dried, satisfied that he had been adequately punished.

Nines had sat next to him for an hour after that, saying nothing, though his presence had been a comfort regardless. Nines had later told him that he shouldn't say things like that again. That he'd only get hurt if he did. Connor took the words to heart and had never told anyone he loved them again, but he couldn't stop his heart from feeling it. Couldn't stop the way he desired to love, and to be loved.

But he'd had to hide it. No matter what, he wasn't allowed to share how his heart would burn. He suddenly remembered a young boy he'd grown close to when he was aged ten to eleven, a child who lived down the street from their house. While Connor hadn't been allowed to leave the house often, he had been given some liberties after his tenth birthday. He'd befriended the young boy pretty quickly, the boy finding his emotionless voice and expression funny, rather than deterring.

He could tell now that he'd loved that boy, strongly, fiercely. But he'd never allowed himself to feel it. Eventually the boy grew up, no longer finding the emotionless Connor a good companion. Connor had watched as the boy befriended other people, smiling, happy people, and had pushed away the pain it had caused in his heart. Pain was useless. Sorrow meant nothing. The boy, he had told himself, late at night as he stared at the ceiling, meant nothing.

He wondered about that boy now, as he sat on his bed, tears falling freely. How things would have been different if he'd just been allowed to express how he'd felt. He knew he had hurt the boy, never even acknowledging that they were friends. Maybe they would have grown close, had Connor just been allowed to show emotion. Maybe they would have become a couple, sharing sweet kisses on the boy's bed, his parents out for the night. Maybe they could have run away together, escaping the life of heartache and sorrow Connor had grown up in, yet had refused to acknowledge.

But it would never happen. No matter what, Connor couldn't change the past. He'd missed so much growing up, his heart packaged up and ignored in order to stay safe. How many children out here were like him, right this very second? How many children were as lost and confused as he had felt?

That's why he had to stop Cyber, he knew, staring at the wall with Hank's posters on them. He'd already known how important Markus's mission was, but this drove it home. He'd never have obtained Amanda's love. Not even if he'd worked for a thousand years, never failing a single mission. She'd never love him. Not the way he wanted her to love him. And it hurt to think. It hurt to realize how much he'd kept hidden all those years, in order to gain her favor. He'd had no idea he'd loved that boy until that very moment. He'd never known why his heart would ache, filled with such pain. She'd robbed him of that knowledge.

He had to save other children who were like him from that fate. He had to stop Cyber, even if it killed him. He'd willingly die, he realized, if it meant others could be free. Perhaps this was how Markus felt, Connor wondered, the flow of tears slowing down. Maybe this was how heroes felt, facing down death, wishing for freedom. Maybe this was how he was supposed to feel, when facing something so much bigger than him.

It scared him. God, did it scare him. He didn't want to die. He just wanted to be free. But if he had no other choice… Connor let out another sob, moving to sit on his bed, hanging his head as his shoulders shook with his tears. He couldn't let other children go through what he'd gone through. He couldn't let his people down.

Connor did his best to stop his tears, spending the next half an hour breathing slowly, carefully. However, it didn't work, the tears refusing to stop. Every time they started to cease, he'd remember another instance where Amanda had robbed him of his childhood, another person he could have grown to love but had been ripped from him, and the tears began all over again. He'd tried so hard to be what she wanted. And he'd never been enough. He would never have been enough.

It was at the half hour mark, almost exactly from the moment he'd entered the room, that the door opened. Connor lifted his head, gasping for breath from yet another bout of tears, and felt his heart tug when he saw that oh so familiar aging face, the long, silver hair. God, he was glad to see the man. He'd never felt so many things all at once and had no idea how to make it stop. But seeing Hank, his eyes going wide, then soft and determined? It made something inside him slot back together, like that day he'd told the man about his idea that he was just a robot. There was just something about Hank that calmed him like nothing else could.

"Shit. Kid, hey, don't cry. It's okay," Hank soothed, striding across the room, taking a seat next to him, arms instantly surrounding him. Connor twisted in the grasp to face the older man, finding comfort in the way warmth overwhelmed his senses, another sob escaping. God, how many times had he longed for someone to wrap their arms around him when he'd felt confused or uncertain, wishing he didn't have to always force everything down? How many times had he yearned for comfort, heart breaking, so lost and scared? How often had his hopes been dashed and massacred before his very eyes?

"Shh, shh. Don't you worry, Connor. I'm here. And I'm not planning on going nowhere, you hear me? I'm not gonna ever leave you. Never," Hank whispered into his ear, causing more tears to fall, his body shaking uncontrollably. Part of him felt so scared, knowing that if he didn't push his emotions down that Amanda would find him and beat him, like she had every time he'd cried growing up. But the rest of him rejected the idea of pushing his emotions away, knowing that such an act would be impossible now. He couldn't dam this up any longer. It hurt too much.

So, instead, he just burrowed deep into Hank's warmth, letting the comfort the man freely offered wash over him. He listened to the soft, sweet nothings Hank whispered in his ear, promising that he was there, that he'd always be there for Connor. He took all the comfort Hank offered and did his best to show how much he appreciated the man through his own body, hugging as tight as he could without restricting oxygen.

He loved Hank, he acknowledged as he turned his head and listened to the man's heart beat, callused hands combing sinfully through his hair. He loved Hank more than he'd ever loved anyone else. Including Amanda. But… he didn't love Hank the same way he had loved his pseudo mother. No. He loved Hank like it was the only thing he could do. Like there was a fire within him, burning and yet not quite consuming. Like it was the only possible thing he could ever feel, the only emotion he could possibly have. Like if he didn't express this feeling, the fire would consume him, leaving nothing but ash behind.

Connor longed to say the words, to tell Hank how much he loved him. How much he adored him. But…

But he couldn't forget the look on Amanda's face, at the age of five, staring at him with such… _disappointment_. He couldn't forget the young boy, staring at him with cool eyes, no longer amused at how little Connor shared. He couldn't forget all of his brothers and sisters, eyes blank and emotionless, never allowing him to get close to them. Not even Nines, the one person he could safely say he'd been closest to. He couldn't forget all the pain he'd grown up with, all the hurt he'd compartmentalized in his heart and had buried so deep he thought he'd never have to deal with it.

And so he knew he couldn't tell Hank. Maybe Hank wouldn't reject him. Maybe Hank could feel the same way, one day. But… but Connor wasn't strong enough to break through that final gate inside his heart. The one that Amanda had installed all those years ago, beating him for saying three small, simple, heartfelt words. He couldn't bear to tell Hank, only for him to reject him, to put distance between the two. It would destroy him to face that, and he wasn't strong enough to risk it.

The fact was, he needed Hank. So much. Hank gave him the strength to fight the Company he'd been raised to follow. Hank made him feel like he could do anything he desired. When his arms were around him, holding him so tight… Connor knew he couldn't lose him. Not now. Not ever. And if that meant hiding what he felt, the love within him… then so be it. He'd kept it hidden this long, despite the fact he was pretty sure he'd fallen the very first moment he'd seen Hank, the gruff man worming his way into his heart so neatly. Maybe Kara was right. Maybe love at first sight did exist.

So he'd continue how things had been. He'd not let Hank know how he felt. Maybe, once all of this was over, he'd tell Hank. Maybe they could move in together, live together; love together. Maybe they'd all become one, big, happy family, him, and Hank, and Sumo. Maybe Alice and Kara could join their family. Hell, Luther too. And Markus. And Simon. Josh and North as well, if they wanted. Maybe once this was all over they could finally be free to live and love as they desired.

And as Connor shuffled impossible closer to Hank, left hand clenching Hank's shirt while he listened to the man's heart beating, tears finally drying, he decided that he could wait. Maybe Hank wouldn't love him back. Maybe things with Cyber would fail, the Company winning in the end. Maybe everything they were striving for would crumble and fall. Maybe.

But for now, he'd accept the comfort Hank offered and would dream of the future. A future in which he didn't have to be afraid to love. In which he didn't have to fear Cyber taking control of his life any longer.

Long minutes passed after his decision, Connor letting himself simply be as Hank held him, warmth encapsulating him. After a minute, Hank started to hum something softly, before he began to sing, his voice rough and dry, but so utterly beautiful. Connor could do nothing but listen, heart so full he was sure it would burst.

 _Why are there so many_

 _Songs about rainbows_

 _And what's on the other side_

 _Rainbows are visions_

 _They're only illusions_

 _And rainbows have nothing to hide_

 _So we've been told, and some chose to_

 _Believe it_

 _But I know they're wrong wait and see_

 _Someday we'll find it_

 _The Rainbow Connection_

 _The lovers, the dreamers and me_

Hank's voice trailed off after the last word, hand stalling on Connor's back. Connor pulled back reluctantly, needing to see Hank's eyes. Needed to know what he was feeling.

He let out a soft gasp when he saw the most tender look he'd ever seen adorn Hank's face, the man reaching out and drying the last of the tears Connor had, hand so warm and comforting. That look made Connor fully understand how amazing a father the man must have been.

"That was beautiful, Hank," Connor breathed, the room too warm, the air too thick. His head was spinning as Hank gave him a crooked grin, chuckling softly.

"Yeah? I've never been known for my singing voice. I, uh. Used to sing that song to Cole when he was a baby. It was the only thing that would soothe him, sometimes," Hank replied softly, grin slipping only slightly at the mention of his son. Hank let his hand drop, then, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

"Look. I uh, I know how shitty parents can be. And how hard it can be to see them. So, you know. I get it. If you want to talk about it, just. Know I'm here. Yeah?"

God, Connor wanted to kiss this man. It burned inside of him, consuming everything else. But he resisted, instead smiling as softly as he could manage, hoping it was enough to show how grateful he was.

"I. Yes, I know Hank. Thank you. I… thank you," he breathed, taking a deep breath to suppress the tears that wanted to fall. He'd cried enough. Hank just looked down, looking awkward again.

With that, the moment broke, the stifling feeling in the room dissipating. Hank chuckled again, standing and ruffling Connor's head, like he was a child. Connor tried not to feel disappointment, instead standing as well.

"Well. Enough with the emotions and shit. Tell me, were you able to contact Markus?" Hank questioned, moving over to the desk to give the two some space. Connor tried not to mourn Hank's presence too much, shaking his head in reply. Back to business, it seemed.

"No, unfortunately. I was able to find something on the laptop, but it was so encrypted that I'm not sure what it could be. It doesn't seem to be a location, but I can't be certain until my hacking software unravels the encryption. It might take a while, though, it's so tangled in code. Once the software is finished, however, I'll be able to figure out what it is."

After Connor had finished speaking, a sort of tense atmosphere filled the room, even Connor feeling how awkward things had gotten. Hank let out a soft cough, before trying a grin.

"Ah. I'll pretend I understood any of that. Do you think it would be ready now? When did you last check?"

Connor frowned, thinking about it. It had been right before he'd tried using the earpiece, hoping that the software had finished after the twelve hours that had passed between starting it and then. The fact that it had taken his software so long was a testament to how good Markus had been at encrypting his message. It usually only took Connor a matter of minutes to hack into anything. Even the pentagon had only taken his software an hour.

Connor looked towards the door, and Hank got the hint and made sure to stand next to it, making sure no one came in unexpectedly. One downside to the facility was that they weren't allowed to have locks on their doors. At least they didn't have windows on the doors, affording their patients just a hint of privacy. Hank took a broom that Connor had found somewhere and jammed it under the handle, just to be safe, and stood beside it.

While Hank took the position of lookout, Connor entered the bathroom and carefully removed the mirror, setting it aside as he grabbed the laptop. He noticed the bottle of whiskey that Connor had stolen for Hank was decidedly less full than it had been the last time he'd seen it, Hank obviously having partaken in the poison at some point in the last week. At least he hadn't seemed to get as drunk as the first night.

Leaving the mirror, Connor reentered the main room, closing the window blinds as he set the laptop on the desk, opening it up. The screen turned on instantly, a picture of some graffiti filling the screen. Connor felt his heart leap as he realized his software had finished, the picture shown being the one that Markus had done so much to hide.

It was unassuming, Connor decided, scrutinizing the picture. He enlarged it and moved it all around, looking at every last pixel. Hank had asked what Connor was doing, but Connor had ignored him, too focused to pay the man any mind. After ten minutes, Connor surmised that there was nothing hidden in the picture, his mouth turning down into a frown as he realized that he was just as lost as he had been before. Letting out a noise of complaint, Connor crossed his arms, glaring at the computer, like he was blaming it for his problems. Hank wandered over at that, putting a comforting hand on Connor's shoulder. Connor looked up at the man, about to express his frustration, but stopped at seeing the concentration on Hank's face.

"Hey, isn't that the graffiti at Ferndale Station?" Hank asked, pointing at the screen. Connor blinked at the man, before looking back.

"Ferndale Station?" Connor repeated, mind turning rapidly. Wait…

"Yeah. I used to pass by there all the time when my car was in the shop and I had to get to work. That piece cropped up a few years ago."

Oh. That was it. Connor couldn't help the way his mouth grew into a grin, standing up so abruptly he made Hank stumble back a step. But he barely noticed.

It was a map. A map to where Markus and the others were hiding. He knew it was. Of course! If he found his way to Ferndale Station, he'd probably find a clue that would lead him to the next location, which would lead him to next, until he found his way to where Markus was. Why hadn't he thought of that himself?

Turning bright eyes onto Hank, Connor hugged the man swiftly to find some outlet for the swelling emotion inside of him, so excited he might burst. This was it. This was his way to get to Markus and inform him of his new plan. Without Hank, he never would have made the connection to Ferndale Station. Once again Hank had saved the day.

As he quickly hugged the man, Hank let out a soft 'oof' at the contact, but hugged Connor back nonetheless. Connor pulled back almost as fast as he had hugged him, though, body too full of emotion to stay still.

"Hank, that's it! You're a genius!" He exclaimed, needing Hank to know how much he'd helped. Hank just looked dazed, but Connor didn't have time to lose. He entered back into the bathroom, grabbing the flash drive, though it was a bit useless now. He'd already memorized the access key the night before. As he exited, he felt hands stop him, Hank frowning at him.

"Hey, hey. Hold your horses, kid. What the fuck is going on?"

Hank sounded a touch frustrated, so Connor decided to humor the man. Eyes bright, he enthusiastically explained.

"It's a map, Hank. If I get to Ferndale Station, I'll be able to follow the map to find where Markus and the others are located. I, I have to go. Now," Connor stressed, eyes wide. Hank just shook his head, not letting Connor go.

"Wait a second, Connor. Did you forget that you're a patient in a fucking mental facility? They're not just going to let you go!"

Hm. That was a problem. Connor hesitated as he thought of that, wondering what he could do. After a second he heard Hank sigh, the other man shaking his head.

"See? You have to stop and think, Connor, or else you'll get caught. And fuck that," Hank growled, hands clenching at the thought. "I know of a way out of the facility that will let you go mostly undetected. Out in the garden there's a hole under part of the fence, under some rose bushes, near that big gnarled tree. If you head out there and keep your head down, the cameras won't notice you until you're already long gone. Got it?"

Connor looked at Hank with wide eyes, the man yet again offering the solution to his problem. Resisting the urge to hug the man again, Connor just grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Hank. I will never be able to repay you for what you've done."

Connor watched, pleasure mounting as Hank blushed bright red, turning his eyes to the ground as he mumbled out that 'it was nothin''. Connor couldn't stop the spike of delight at seeing the man embarrassed. It was adorable.

Connor was about to head to the door to leave, intent on heading back to the garden to escape, when a loud, insistent knock sounded on the door. Both men jumped at the sound, shattering the companionable silence they'd fallen into. Staring at one another with wide eyes, Connor felt dread enter his heart as a voice rang out from across the door.

"This is Special Agent Richard Perkins, open up immediately. I have more questions for the both of you."

Oh, shit. The agent sounded angry, the knocking on the door becoming more insistent by the second. The doorknob rattled, but he was unable to open the door due to the broom Hank had placed there.

"Open up! I know you fuckers are in there!"

Connor could feel his heart clench as he turned to stare at the door. Fuck. He needed to go, now. He didn't have time to waste. Not when both the laptop and the flash drive were out in the open, no time to put either away. He turned back to Hank, desperation in his eyes.

"Hank. I have to go. Now," he stressed, anxiety spiking. Hank just stared at him, expression conflicted, before he nodded.

"Yeah. Okay. I've got a plan. But Connor, first," Hank said, storming off to grab an old, too small leather jacket and a dark blue beanie. Hank shoved them into his arms. "Here. Take this. It will hopefully disguise you enough that you can blend into the city. No offense, but you'll get killed wearing that prissy outfit. Put them on once you're out of the facility, okay?"

Connor nodded, throat tight as he realized this was goodbye. Perhaps forever. He could hear the insistent knocking, Perkins sounding more and more irate, claiming he'd knock down the door if he had to, but he didn't care. He jolted forward and hugged the older man one last time, arms tight around his friend. Hank hugged back, clasping him fiercely.

"You come back, you hear me? I can't lose you too," Hank mumbled into his ear, causing Connor's heart to twist unpleasantly. Nodding fiercely as he pulled back, sniffling a little, Connor promised.

"Okay, Hank. But the same goes to you. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Connor demanded, causing Hank to chuckle. However, before he could reply, the pounding on the door reached its peak, Perkins sounding absolutely furious. Hank turned to the door and scowled. He gave one last look to Connor and nodded quickly.

"Alright! Alright! Hold your fucking horses!" Hank shouted, storming over to the door. Before he opened it, though, he looked back at Connor, eyes softening.

"Good luck, kid. Knock 'me dead."

Then, abruptly, he removed the broomstick and opened the door, scowl deep on his face.

"Perkins! You cocksucker," Hank shouted, before he shoved the agent back, punching him hard in the face. Connor had exactly half a second to feel shock before he slid out the door, the distraction Hank caused allowing him to escape unnoticed. He felt a thrill of anxiety at the knowledge he'd left the laptop behind, the first part of the map still on it, but knew it was out of his hands, now. This was it. Make or break time.

As he dashed through the common room, doing his best not to seem suspicious yet needing to hurry, Connor made a beeline for the glass door that led to the garden. It was just as he was about to head out that he heard an angry voice call his name. A voice he, unfortunately, knew.

"Hey, where the fuck to you think you're going, asshole? The facility is in lockdown still. You can't head outside," Gavin Reed shouted, marching over to Connor. Shit. Why was he there?! It was only Thursday!

He didn't have time for this. Connor ignored the man and headed outside, dashing for the area Hank had told him about, hoping Reed would just give up.

No such luck, though. He felt a hand grab his shoulder roughly, yanking him back.

"Hey, asshole! I'm talking to you!"

Connor was forced to turn around, where he noticed that Gavin wasn't wearing the casual clothes he usually wore while at the facility, but more professional attire, his badge prominent on his belt. Ah. So he was there for official business.

"No offense, Detective, but I don't have time for this," Connor stated calmly, before taking a leaf out of Hank's book and punching the man on his temple. Reed attempted to block it but was unsuccessful, Connor too fast. The man dropped to the ground, clutching his head. Connor then punched him again, causing the man to fall unconscious. Looking around frantically to see if anyone had seen, Connor then carefully dragged the man out of sight of the window, tying Hank's jacket around his waist to keep it secure.

That done, Connor went back to the task at hand, stalking over to the tree Hank had mentioned. As he got there he saw a rose bush in front of where he assumed the hole to be, instantly bending down to crawl under it, flash drive tight in his fist. He ignored the pricks from the thorns and branches and kept going, spotting the hole as soon as he reached the fence. It was a tight fit but Connor was able to get under it, shaking the leaves out of his hair as soon as he got out on the other side. He then rushed through the trees, internal map telling him he was about fifteen minutes outside of Detroit, fifty minutes from Ferndale Station. If he used the train, though, he'd get there faster. Running as fast as he could, which was pretty fast, Connor entered the city proper within ten minutes, heart pounding. He took a short break to put on Hank's jacket and beanie when he found the first train station he could, hacking the terminal to get a free ride.

Connor was a bundle of nerves as he sat on the bus, heart pounding long after his body calmed itself down from his running. This is it, he kept repeating to himself. This is it.

As the minutes passed, Connor filled the time with thinking over his plan for how to access the warehouse. Oh, he knew that it would have to be him to do the task. No one else could possibly do it. Only he had any clearance to the Company whatsoever. While Connor didn't head to the CyberLife facility often, he was important enough that he had clearance. He just hoped that they would allow him in without killing him first. Staring out the window, Connor distantly noticed that it was Thanksgiving. Funny.

The train ride was simultaneously too long and too short, the train pulling up to Ferndale Station long before he felt he was ready, but far longer than his racing heart desired. As he stumbled out of the train, Connor did his best to push his emotion down for the last time. For better or for worse, after today he'd never have to mask his emotions again. If they failed, chances are he'd be killed for what he was planning to do. And if he succeeded… well.

Pulling up a mental image of the graffiti, Connor surreptitiously looked around, eyes spotting the painted wall a few seconds later. Turning on his enhanced visual protocol, Connor looked around the painting for the key he knew was there. In the center of the painting was a pound sign with sharpened edges, which lit up when Connor looked over it. Analyzing it, Connor received the mental image of another piece of graffiti, which he'd have to locate.

The hunt on, Connor crept through the city, sharp eyes spotting the keys pretty quickly. Looking around every few seconds to make sure he wasn't being followed, Connor followed the trail, quickly finding his way to an old freighter ship that was rusting in the water. Finding a way down that didn't require jumping into a pool of water, potentially destroying his flash drive, Connor entered the boat and moved carefully around. Pretty soon, though, he heard noise, a lot of it. Hurrying, Connor followed the noise, though he kept his head down in case it was someone unsavory.

Within a matter of minutes Connor found himself in the midst of a large gathering of people. There had to be a few hundred, at least. Connor could only stare as he watched the people mill around, heart stopping.

Were these… were these all people like him? People who had been modified by Cyber? Connor's mouth turned dry as he thought of it. He'd never seen so many people who'd Cyber had affected in one place. Were they all fighting against the Company, too? That was… amazing. The fact that so many people were able to fight the Company's control… maybe they had hope, yet.

But he had more important matters than just standing here. He had no idea how long it would take the FEDs to realize what Hank had realized and find this location. His heart clenched at the thought of bringing the agents here. Had he known how many people were here…

But now wasn't the time for regrets. Now was the time for action. As casually as he could, Connor blended into the crowd, glad for the jacket and beanie Hank had given him. He did his best to locate Markus, though after a rotation through the room, he surmised that the man wasn't there.

Impatient, Connor headed out of the room and rushed around the boat, doing his best to find Markus. After half an hour, Connor was about to give up, thinking the man wasn't even there. But then he heard voices coming from a room on the deck of the ship, Connor placing them as Josh and North. Heart pounding, he crept over to the room, listening in.

Before he could really hear anything, the conversation ended, Simon and Josh exiting the room. Part of Connor wanted to call out to Simon, heart leaping at the fact that he was still alive, but he didn't. He had more important things to focus on. Pulling the flash drive out of the jacket pocket, Connor walked over to the entrance, heart pounding once again. He paused when he saw that North and Markus were standing close, hands touching. Connor took a step back and hid behind the doorway, cheeks bright red when he saw the pair kiss, embarrassed for some reason. He wouldn't disrupt them, he decided. Yes, what he had to say was important, but it wasn't worth North's anger if he interrupted then.

Luckily North left a minute later, not noticing Connor lurking around the corner. Conor took a deep breath and entered the room, knocking when he saw that Markus had his back turned. His heart jumped at the way Markus whirled around, his nerves obviously high, but relaxed when Markus smiled at him, stepping forward in greeting.

"Connor! What are you doing here?" Markus questioned, suddenly stopping mid way through the room. A suspicious look entered his eyes. "Did something happen at the facility? Is everyone alright?"

Connor nodded carefully, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. Markus's eyes instantly went to the flash drive that Connor was holding.

"No one is hurt. I, I had news that I needed to tell you, but the earpiece wouldn't work and the only information I found on the laptop was a key to get here. But I promise you, this is important," Connor stressed, eyes wide. Markus stared at him for a second, then nodded slowly.

"Alright. What was so important you had to break out of the facility to tell me?"

"I know a way to win this war," Connor stressed, instantly getting Markus's attention. The man stood up, ramrod straight, and stared intently on Connor. Connor continued. "After our talk on Friday, Hank had made some calls to his old contacts. He then met with this person who used to work for Cyber's messaging facility. They were able to get an access key to the messaging system, so that any advanced model who enters the messaging facility will be allowed to send a message to every person that has a major modification. Markus, if I do this, almost all of our people will be freed," Connor stressed, his excitement at the plan returning tenfold. Markus just continued to stare, eyes wide with shock. He then got a considering look on his face, marching closer to Connor.

"Are you sure? That this is real? That this person wasn't just lying?" Markus breathed, standing almost toe to toe with Connor. Connor hesitated, realizing he wasn't sure.

"I, I don't know. I've checked the access key; I know that the key exists. So I have to hope that it'll work. But… What other choice do we have? This is the best chance we have to free everyone. And if we have that many testimonies? No one can deny Cyber's existence. We'll be free, Markus."

Connor stared into Markus's eyes, willing the man to agree with him. Finally, after a minute had passed, Markus nodded.

"Alright, I-"

The words Markus had been about to say were cut off when they heard a helicopter pass overhead, a floodlight hitting the deck of the ship. Oh, shit! In his excitement to tell Markus his plan, he'd forgotten about the FBI!

"Markus! It's the FBI, they must have found my laptop," Connor shouted, as the pair stared around the room, eyes wide. "We have to get out of here!"

"Shit," Markus cursed, eyes hard as he ran out the room. Before they could get far, they saw a group of FEDs enter the ship, shouting orders and firing their guns wildly. Connor felt his eyes widen. Were they even looking to take anyone alive? Shit, indeed.

Markus shouted at Connor, telling him to get off the ship as fact as possible, but Connor didn't listen. He just followed Markus down into the heart of the ship, needing to help.

After a few minutes of panicked running, the pair ran into Simon and North, both looking frantic.

"Markus, what do we do? Our people are trapped in the hold, they'll be slaughtered" North stated, briefly looking at Connor but quickly dismissing him. Markus looked at the people around him and made a quick decision.

"We have to get as many people off the freighter as possible. It's my fault they came here, I have to help them. You three, get off the ship as fast as you can. North, where is Josh?"

North shook her head, eyes frenetic. "I don't know, we got separated."

Markus cursed under his breath, before looking at North.

"Alright, I'll find him. Now, get off the ship! I'm going to head down into the hold and start the explosives. That should give us enough time to exit the ship. That's the only way," Markus claimed, eyes hard. Connor swallowed thickly, nodding his assent. North tried to protest, but Simon grabbed her arm, pulling her along. The duo began to run, but Connor hesitated, looking at Markus.

"Connor, go! You're our only hope of winning this war, now, so you have to get out of here!"

Connor's heart skipped a beat at the words, but his feet listened and began to follow North and Simon, quickly catching up to the pair. As they ran, they had to dodge agents, hiding from sight until they left. Whenever they saw a person who needed help, though, they stepped in, helping the person escape. At one point Connor picked up a gun that one of the fallen agents had attached to his belt, a single-shot gun that felt natural in his grip.

As they ran they saw so many people, _their_ people, get gunned down, red blood flowing over the ground. Connor tried not to throw up as the scent of copper blood hit his nose, focused on escaping. The flash drive was clenched tight in his fist, the plastic digging into his flesh as the trio ran. They eventually found Josh, but he just ran with them, not saying anything in greeting.

After what felt like an eternity, but must have only been a few minutes, Markus met back up with them, telling them the bomb would explode any second. The group ran down a hallway, dodging boxes and other various obstacles. Just as the group was about to escape, however, a group of FEDs had entered their hallway, shooting at the group. North was shot, crying out in pain. Connor hesitated at the staircase he had been hovering around, watching as Markus turned back to help North get up, using a piece of scrap metal as a shield. Markus then charged the agents, shooting one. He headed back to the group once the agents were down, but then more came from down the hall.

Connor felt the gun in his hand and charged towards the incoming agents, using the piece of scrap metal as a shield as well. He did his best to not kill anyone, but knew that if he had to, he would. Once the four agents who had rushed them were down, more coming in the distance, Connor returned to the group and ran with them to safety. The five of them then jumped out of the freighter just as the bomb went off, the whole freighter lighting up. As he fell, Connor felt the gun and flash drive get knocked out of his hand. He had no time to feel his panic at losing the flash drive before he hit the water, the impact jolting his nerves. He made sure to swim up as soon as possible, looking up as the freighter sank, hoping against hope that everyone had been able to escape.

This is it, his mind whispered to him, water around him reflecting the fire above.

There was no turning back now.

* * *

The song that Hank sings is the Rainbow Connection, from the Muppets, though I personally prefer the Kenny Loggins version.


	17. A Culmination

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Chapter title: A Culmination

Hank glared at the handcuffs around his wrists, the metal cuffs digging deep into his flesh. It had been quite some time since he'd been placed in handcuffs, he mused. It had not gotten any more pleasant.

But that was alright. Being put into handcuffs was fine as long as Connor had gotten out and was able to go and save the world. Or whatever. He'd gladly sit here for a thousand years if it meant Connor was able to be free.

Well… maybe not a _thousand_ years. He had to admit that was a bit much. But he didn't mind being placed in the DPD holding cell, handcuffs digging into his flesh. Not when his distraction had helped Connor escape.

His only regret was that he had failed to destroy that fucking computer the previous night, allowing that cocksucker Perkins to see the same picture Connor had, the man immediately rushing to find the location and stop Markus once and for all. He'd told the other agents to arrest Hank (which, fair. He had punched a federal agent, after all). Luckily Chris had been there at the site, providing backup for the lockdown, and had called Fowler. Fowler, who Hank had still not seen yet, had pulled a few strings and had gotten Hank transferred to their units holding cells.

Hank had only heard snippets of what had happened with Connor and the others the previous night, but what he'd heard hadn't been good. Ben had been able to stop in briefly before leaving to help with the investigation but hadn't said much. All he'd said was that they had found the location Markus and his followers were hiding in, that it had been blown up, and that they had no idea how many people survived. Hank had felt his heart stop at the words, wanting more information but getting nothing, as Ben apologetically rushed off to handle another case that had come in from the freighter.

Connor couldn't be dead, he had told himself all throughout the night, mind racing too much to get any restful sleep. Connor had to be alive. The alternative was just too much for him to bear.

Now, at whatever the fuck o'clock it was, Hank could only stare at his handcuffs, wishing more than anything that he was out there, helping Connor. Knowing if Connor was okay. But he wouldn't be allowed to leave for a while, at least. Unless Fowler pulled some kind of miracle and got him released. But even then, he'd just be sent back to the facility, probably kept under strict watch.

So, Hank just sighed, stretching on the uncomfortable bed he was sitting on. At least he was allowed a room by himself. His connection with the DPD afforded him that much, it seemed.

Half an hour passed like that, Hank staring into space, trying not to let his worry overtake his heart. Connor was fine. Markus was fine. They all were fine and were moving to use his access key to free their people. They had until midnight to use it, they'd make it.

As Hank was trying to force his mind to believe his lies, he heard someone approach the cell, the jingle of keys alerting him. Eyes sharp on the door, he let out a scowl when he saw the sneering man on the other side.

"Well, well. If it isn't Hank Fucking Anderson. Always knew I'd find you behind bars one day," Reed sneered, keys in his hands. To taunt him, or to release him? Knowing Reed, it was to taunt him.

"Fuck off, Reed. I don't have time for your bullshit," Hank growled, hands clenching. Reed growled back, but took the key and unlocked the door, to Hank's surprise.

"You know, I really would love to just let you rot in here. But Fowler wants to see you. So, get your fat ass up and try to not slow me down, old fuck."

Hank had heard Connor had knocked the man unconscious. Hank regretted more than anything in this moment that he hadn't been there to see it. Scowling, Hank stood up, because he wasn't an idiot. While he hated Reed, the man did follow his orders. He just had to be a dick about while doing it. He decided not to antagonize the other man, figuring it just wouldn't be worth it.

Keeping his mouth shut, Hank stood from the crappy bed and made his way to the exit. He couldn't stop the scowl when Reed grabbed his arm roughly, like he was a misbehaving criminal instead of the man's former coworker, but he didn't say anything. But he wanted to. Ohh, did he want to.

Thankfully, Reed said nothing else as he dragged Hank through the precinct, though he had a satisfied grin on his face as he yanked Hank about, obviously getting twisted pleasure at his power over him. Jackass.

However, right before Reed brought him up the steps that would lead to Fowler's glass office (which the man had complained about numerous times to Hank, back when they'd still been friends), Reed stopped, forcing Hank to halt in his tracks. Wrists stinging with the abrupt stop, Hank glared at Reed, who was glaring right back.

"I don't know what the fuck your little boyfriend is up to, Anderson, but rest assured he will not get away with it. When we find him, I'm going to make sure he gets put away for a very long time. You hear me?" Reed growled, eyes dark. Hank clenched his hands and bared his teeth. Threats to himself? That he could handle. Threats to Connor? Another fucking story.

"You fucking asshole, if you think-" Hank began, eyes screaming bloody murder, but was interrupted when the door to Fowler's office opened, the man looking at them with angry eyes.

"Reed, what the fuck are you doing?! I asked you to bring Anderson to me, not have a fucking chat! Bring him in, I don't have all fucking day," Fowler barked, heading back to his desk, body tense. Shit. Fowler was never in a good mood, but he seemed to be downright furious at the moment. That did not bode well for Hank.

Luckily, Reed didn't dare defy a direct order from his boss, so he said nothing, though he did look like he'd swallowed a lemon as he yanked Hank up the stairs. The fucker.

Reed opened the door harsher than he had to and dragged Hank over to the chair, shoving him in it. If Fowler didn't look ready to murder him, he'd have complained. As it was, he just sunk into the chair, scowling petulantly, as Reed turned to leave. Fowler stopped him.

"Detective Reed. The key, please?"

Reed paused at the door, glanced back, and stiffly returned to hand the keys over. He didn't bother looking at Hank, which Hank was just fine with.

Finally, the asshole left, leaving Hank alone with Fowler. Who was scowling so deeply that Hank would have mistaken him for 80, not his middle aged 56. Shit.

After a minute of glaring, Fowler stood up and stiffly released Hank from the handcuffs, thank God. As Hank rubbed the sore wrists, he warily looked at Fowler, who still had yet to say a single word to him. The man took his seat across the desk and continued to glare.

Another minute passed, Hank growing impatient, when Fowler finally broke. Fists clenched on the desk, Fowler spoke, voice tightly constrained.

"Anderson. Would you mind explaining why I got a report on you fucking punching a FED in the face?"

Ah. Of course, Fowler was pissed about that. It wasn't like Hank had never punched an officer before, but he usually restrained from hitting the FEDs. And as a civilian, Hank had a feeling he would be in a lot more trouble than as a cop. Still, it had been worth it. So, Hank just shrugged, causing the vein on Fowler's forehead to bulge dangerously.

"Oh. That. Yeah, I punched this fucking bastard, Perkins, in his smug fucking face." Upon seeing the murderous look on Fowler's face, Hank rolled his eyes, trying to relieve the tension. While they might not be friends anymore, he didn't exactly want the man to die of an aneurysm or some shit. "Oh, come on, Jeffery. Guy fucking had it coming. Condescending, homophobic prick."

It seemed his attempt to lighten the mood worked somewhat, as Fowler went from, "apoplectic" to simply, "royally pissed off." So, his usual temperament.

"And it had absolutely nothing to do with you helping your fucking roommate escape?"

Ah. So, they were addressing the elephant in the room. Keeping his face absolutely blank, since he had no idea to whom Fowler gave his loyalty (once upon a time Hank would never have had reason to doubt his boss and friend, but now… now he just wasn't sure), Hank shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not his fucking keeper. What the kid does has nothing to do with me," Hank lied, keeping his tone casual.

Unfortunately, he'd known Fowler for a long fucking time, so the man saw right through him.

"Yeah right," Fowler scoffed, leaning closer, eyes intent. "Look. If you just tell us where he is or what he's planning, you can get off the charges that the bastard Perkins wants to charge you with. You'll get years in jail, Hank. Years. Just tell us what you know, and this can all just go away. I promise."

Fowler's gaze on him softened, the man looking at him like they were still friends. Like the past three years had never happened.

But that was bullshit. The last three years had happened. And Fowler wasn't his friend any longer. Especially not if he'd ask him to betray Connor. So, with a scowl on his face, Hank shook his head.

"No fucking way. Send me to jail, see if I fucking care. I'm not saying a God damned thing."

Silence reigned in the office as Fowler continued to stare at Hank, a sad look in his eyes. He shook himself out of it a moment later, scowl back in place.

"Do you have to fucking make things harder, Hank?! Why can't you just listen?! What does this Connor even mean to you, anyway?!"

Fowler sounded frustrated and angry, but Hank didn't care. What did Connor mean to him? Hell if he knew, but whatever it was, it was strong. Hank leaned forward, hands on the desk, clenched into fists.

"You don't fucking understand, Jeffery. You don't know what I know. Do you even know what Cyber fucking is?! A fucking government conspiracy that's actually real! They take children, Jeffery, and turn them into soldiers! How can you be okay with that?!"

Fowler stared at him, scowl deepening as he stood and leaned across the desk, invading Hank's personal space.

"Cyber isn't real, Hank. It's a fucking conspiracy. Something only fucking idiots believe in."

Hank stood as well, pushing back against Fowler, not caring what would happen to him. Fists clenched, Hank got right into Fowler's face, spitting mad.

"You fucking asshole. You utter jackass! It's not a conspiracy! It's fucking real!"

"No, it is not! It's something mental patients made up, a schizophrenic's delusion! I always thought that your only problem was your fucking depression, but now I see you're just as batshit crazy as the rest of them!" Fowler growled, before pulling back and pacing the confined office. People from outside the office were looking their way, concerned frowns, but the room was soundproof, so no one could hear anything. Good.

Hank took a heavy seat, scowling fiercely, so fucking pissed. More than that, his heart ached. He'd been friends with this man, once. How had he missed how purposely obtuse he was? The fight leaving him, Hank stared down at the floor, suddenly bone tired. The only sound in the room was Fowler's pacing. After a minute, Fowler spoke, voice softer than he'd heard it in years. Not since the man had learned about what happened to Cole.

"It's not real, Hank. It's just a myth. Something crazy people like to latch onto, because it makes them feel better, fighting an imagined enemy. I don't know what they were teaching you in there, but it was a fucking lie. I know you were close with that activist, Markus, but what he told you wasn't the truth. None of it was. Cyber isn't real. I promise you that."

Hank looked up at Fowler, eyes blank. The man had sounded beseeching, begging Hank to listen to reason, but his words were wrong. He knew Cyber was real. It had to be.

"You believe what you want, Fowler. I know what's real. Put me in jail for the next decade. Hell, put me away for the rest of my fucking life. See if I fucking care. Markus and Connor will show the world the truth. Then you'll fucking see."

And that was that. He had nothing else to say to his once friend. Fowler stared at him, sorrow in his eyes for a split second, before it was chased away with his usual anger. Hank didn't even care. He knew what he knew. He trusted Connor, trusted what he'd told him. Hell, he even trusted Markus, even though he was still pissed at him. He knew the truth. Just because Fowler was stuck in his denial didn't make him right.

"Fine. Fuck you, Hank. Fuck you. I'll do what I can to reduce your charges, get you a plea deal, maybe an insanity plea, but I can't make any promises. Now get the fuck out of my office."

Despite his demand, Hank wasn't actually free to leave. Reed came back, smug smile on his stupid fucking face, and snapped the handcuffs on nice and tight. Then he dragged Hank back to his cell, trying to engage with him, but Hank didn't take the bait. He was so fucking tired. So tired.

Once back in his cell, he stared at the wall, handcuffs still on. Reed was supposed to take them off now that Hank had been processed, but of course the fucker hadn't. But he didn't care. He was too tired to care.

Cyber was real. He knew it was. It had to be. Right? Connor had said it was real. Markus had said it was real. Even Simon and Josh confirmed it. So, it had to be real. Right?

 _Yeah, but they were all in a nut house at one point or another. Who knows how sound their minds are?_

Hank winced at the thought, hands clenching into fists. That was true. Markus had once been a patient in Jericho. So had Simon, Josh, and North. Connor, obviously. He didn't know what Starlight's deal was, but…

But maybe Fowler was right. Maybe Cyber _wasn't_ real and he'd just been duped by crazy fuckers.

The thought settled thick and sour in his stomach, causing him to feel sick. No. It couldn't be true. He, he had proof, didn't he? The access key, right?

But… but that could have been anything. Hell, he'd never even seen what was on the fucking thing, had just handed it over blithely to Connor. Trusting. Fuck. Where had his inner detective gone?! How had he allowed himself to be tricked like this?!

Had he been tricked? Was Cyber real? Everyone who'd told him about the Company had been in a mental facility at one point or another. He'd had no proof about the existence of the Company outside of the word of Markus and his friends.

It had seemed so real, but how could Hank be sure he hadn't just been latching onto the mystery? The intrigue? He'd been so fucking bored before Connor arrived, with his dark brown, empty eyes and his soft brown hair. After learning about Cyber, how could he be sure he hadn't just wanted it to be real so much? How could he know he hadn't just wanted to be useful so much that he'd willingly went along with a madman's ramblings about a conspiracy, all the while ignoring the parts that didn't make sense? Like, how could the government do such terrible things, and no one know? How could they have the technology available to modify humans at a time when home computers barely even existed?

God. _God_. This was all fucked up. He'd been so sure, _so fucking sure_ that Cyber was real. But Fowler had torn a hole in his confidence. Had planted that seed of doubt. And now he didn't know what he believed.

Hank continued to stare at the wall, his mind bringing up Connor. Connor, who looked so earnest all the time. Connor, who looked like he couldn't tell a lie. Connor, who Hank was quickly falling for, heart so tangled up he didn't know where he even existed anymore. He couldn't have lied, could he? He couldn't just be crazy.

Right?

_—_

The next several hours passed slowly. At one-point Hank had been able to drift off to sleep but had woken an indeterminate time later in a cold sweat, shaking fiercely. He couldn't erase the image of Connor, eyes blank with death as he laid on the floor, red blood surrounding him, Hank too slow to save him. He hadn't thought he'd been asleep long but decided not to risk another nightmare and so he stayed up, staring at the wall. The lack of a clock was the true torture here. He had no idea what time it was, no windows in the room to tell by sunlight. He didn't know if it had passed midnight, or if it was even still Friday at all. He'd been so busy being angry at Reed and Fowler while out that he'd forgotten to check the time. He had no idea what was going on outside. He had no idea if Connor and the others were okay.

And, try as he might, he couldn't get rid of the lingering doubt that plagued him, the idea that he'd been duped. Oh, he did his best to ignore it. He was in far too deep now to get out unscathed anyway. And, even if it wasn't true, he didn't regret helping Connor. Yeah, maybe the kid was nuts, but maybe Hank liked that about him.

But the idea was still troubling. And it wasn't until he heard the sound of keys jingling, another person coming to presumably get him, that he tore himself from his worsening thoughts. Stomach clenching, Hank looked warily at the cell door, waiting to see who it was. He let out a soft breath when he saw it was one of the newbie cops he didn't know, not Reed again.

"You have a visitor," the cop said, eyes blank as she stared at Hank, clearly unimpressed by him. He wondered if she'd heard about him in the precinct yet. He'd be damned if he hadn't left his mark on this place. Maybe he'd come back, if he didn't get sent to jail and was released from Jericho. It would be nice, being a detective again.

Staying seated so as not to concern her, Hank just nodded as the cop opened the door, gesturing for Hank to stand. He did, following behind her in a much better mood than when he'd had to follow Reed. He wasn't quite sure who he was going to see, as he didn't know many people outside of the precinct, but whatever. Hopefully he'd be able to find a clock somewhere and check the time.

As the pair walked through the precinct, Hank nodding his head at the people he remembered from his days on the force, he saw a clock on the wall. Suppressing the small grin of achievement, he noted that the time was 8:00 PM, though he didn't know the day. But he was fairly certain it was still Friday. He'd have known if an entire day had passed. Yeah?

That meant the others still had time, if they hadn't done it already. It was the last chance Hank had to figure out if he was crazy or not.

Mind preoccupied with thoughts of Cyber and the others, Hank let out a grunt of surprise when the cop stopped him before the interrogation room, making Hank's eyebrows crease. Who the fuck would he be seeing in the interrogation room? Perkins? God, he fucking hoped not. He hated that prick.

Trepidation entering his heart, Hank watched the cop open the door, gently (thank Christ, his wrists were still aching from Reed tugging him around) pulling him inside. As he faced the interrogation desk, scowl reflexively rising on his face, he found himself stopping dead, the cop forced to stop as Hank stared at the man with wide eyes.

"Connor…?" Hank mumbled, because Christ, did the man look like Connor. But when the man turned to face him, eyes cold and mouth cut in a grim line, Hank knew it couldn't be. For one, the man looked far more severe than Connor could ever hope to look, even on a bad day. And for another, he had less freckles and his eyes were a couple shades lighter, more gray than brown, and his jaw more defined and less rounded. He had the same hair color, but it was styled differently, more contained. Plus, while Hank couldn't tell while he was sitting, he was fairly sure the man was his height, not Connor's, from the way he folded his legs.

The Not Connor stood up, confirming Hank's belief that he was a couple inches taller than Connor, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

"Not quite. Hello, Hank. I've heard so much about you. Please, take a seat."

His voice was deeper, Hank noted as he sat down, handcuffs clinking on the table as he eyed the man suspiciously. The man looked at the cuffs and looked back at the cop, tilting his head in Hank's direction.

"Please, release him. I can handle him from here."

To Hank's surprise, the cop did, carefully undoing the lock, taking the handcuffs with her as she exited the room. Which was also odd. Usually they didn't leave prisoners with visitors. Frown deep on his face, Hank squinted at the Connor lookalike.

"Who the fuck are you? You a FED?"

The other man raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't change expression. Fuck, that was that creepy. Even when Connor was still under Cyber's (?) control, he still smiled and moved his facial features at least a little. Whoever the fuck this was didn't move or change his expression at all. It was beyond creepy. Especially since he looked so much like Connor. He thought Connor had said he didn't have any biological siblings? Or had he just assumed that's what Connor had meant when he'd mentioned his pseudo siblings?

"My name is Colton Stern, though I prefer to go by the name Nines. Connor is my younger brother. He is also why I am here today. I'm… afraid he might be in trouble. People are after him who will not stop until he is dead. I would… prefer to prevent that, if possible."

Fuck. So this was Nines, huh? The brother Connor had mentioned last week, who'd taken him drinking and had soothed his headache? The one he was closest to? Hank watched the other man, scrutinizing his expression. When he'd mentioned his fear for Connor, his eyebrows had furrowed ever so slightly, his mouth turning downward minutely. It was enough to show Hank that the man was, indeed, concerned.

"Huh. So you're Nines. Connor's mentioned you."

Hank was about to make a gibe about his nickname and how ridiculous it was, but as he said that Connor had mentioned the man, Nines tilted his head to the side, eyes curious. He looked so much like Connor in that second that all the breath had gone out of Hank, eyes wide as he stared at the man.

"Has he? I suppose we've always been particularly close, growing up. That's why I need your help. He, he means a great deal to me. It would be regrettable if he was hurt because of his actions."

Hank scowled at that, eyes narrowing at Nines, or whatever the fuck he wanted to be called. Hank realized that the man hadn't mentioned who he worked for, how he had the ability to meet with a prisoner privately in an interrogation room.

"Yeah? And just who do you work for?" Hank demanded, suspicious. While he was still having doubts about Cyber and its existence, he would be damned if he gave Connor up without proper cause.

Nines frowned softly at that, though his eyes remained blank. Emotionless. Hank did his best not to shrink away from that cold stare.

"I… think you know who I work for, Hank. Or, who I used to work for. I cannot talk, here, but I need you to know that my only concern is my brother. I need to make sure he is okay."

He sounded so earnest. For all that he had a deeper voice, he sounded so much like Connor that Hank almost believed him. That is, if the emotion had reached his eyes. But the stare was still blank, still cold. It was not the look a concerned sibling had. It was the look a soldier had, obeying orders. So Hank scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the imposter.

"Yeah? Bullshit. I ain't telling you nothing, got it? Fuck off."

Nines let out a soft noise of surprised frustration, clearly not expecting Hank's resistance. Hank mentally scoffed. And he said he'd heard a lot about Hank. Yeah right. Hank looked back at the man a second later, face showing his defiance.

Nines stared at him, jaw clenched, eyes tight. But still emotionless. Blank. Nines looked away, down at the ground, then looked back at Hank. Determination had entered his face, creeping only slightly into his eyes.

"Hank. Please. He is my brother. Everything I have done… everything I am, it's all been for him. He is… he is _everything_ to me. I can't let them hurt him. Please, Hank. _Please_. "

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck was this guy convincing. His voice was soft, sounding much closer to Connor's than ever before. He had a deeper frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed a lot deeper. But the thing that struck Hank, the thing that made him inclined to believe Nines, was the look in his eyes. Despite everything, the desperation in his voice had crept oh so slightly into his eyes. They were still mostly blank, shuttered against his emotions, but Hank was starting to think that maybe he was just like Connor had been, in the beginning. Maybe he just didn't know how to express his emotions, after spending years suppressing them.

Well, if there was one thing Hank was sure on, it was that what Nines had just said was not a lie. Connor meant a great deal to the man. Which, honestly, Hank could sympathize with. He also didn't want Connor to get hurt.

So, suspicion still there but waning, Hank uncrossed his arms and frowned at the man across from him.

"How can I trust you? How can I know that what you're saying is the truth?"

Nines turned his eyes away from Hank at that, eyes looking down at the table, hidden from Hank's gaze. It seemed like he was thinking about something. Deciding something. Finally, a moment later, Nines looked up, jaw set and eyes hard.

"I don't know if you can. But I promise you, Connor is the most important thing to me. I don't think he knows this, thinking that we are just adopted siblings that Amanda took in independently, but Connor is my younger brother by blood. When I was six and he was three, our parents were killed during a protest against the AIDS/HIV epidemic. Cy-" Nines cut himself off, looking up at the camera, before looking back at Hank. "The Company killed them, to silence them. Amanda took my brother and I in, and told me that she would raise us, take care of us. All we had to do was follow directions. If I ever failed my tasks, she would… she would hurt him. I couldn't bear to lose him, too, so I molded myself into what she wanted me to be. But now the Company is so angry at Connor. They will kill him, if they find him. I must find him first. I must… please, Hank. Help me find my brother."

Well, shit. Hank couldn't do anything other than swallow thickly, looking at the desperation on Nines's face. Even his eyes were shining with it. He couldn't be lying. There was no way anyone could be such a good liar. Especially not someone who had looked so cold before, so emotionless. Damn him to hell, but he trusted the man. So, with trepidation in his heart, Hank nodded.

"Okay. Okay. But… but I want to come with. I'm not letting you alone with him, not until I know for sure."

Nines smiled softly at that, eyes shining. However, for a split second, Hank could have sworn he saw… _satisfaction_ fill the man's eyes. It was gone as fast as he'd noticed it, but it was enough to cause unease to fill his heart. But he couldn't turn back now. Not when Nines smiled like that, mouth tilted just like Connor's did. So he just swallowed thickly again and nodded.

"Now, I don't know where he is. But if you can get me out of here, I can tell you what I know."

"Of course, Hank. I'd already planned on bringing you with me. I spoke with your Captain earlier, and I've been given clearance to take you back to the facility while you await your sentence. If you'll follow me, we can leave right now, and you can tell me what you know, so we can find Connor together."

Something about the smile Nines gave him seemed off, but Hank couldn't put his finger on why. Pushing the unease away (this was Connor's brother, a person Connor probably trusted, someone who cared deeply about Connor, there was no reason to feel such suspicion), he stood to follow Nines out of the room.

The pair walked through the precinct together, side by side. It felt weird, walking out in public with a man who looked so much like Connor, and yet so different, but he supposed that was to be expected. Maybe one day, after all this was over, he could walk side by side with Connor himself, out in public, without it seeming weird at all.

He still had no idea what he felt about Cyber, if it was real or not. The fact that Connor's brother was there, acknowledging its existence was comforting, but it didn't mean the Company did exist. It just meant Connor's brother also believed it.

Regardless, he'd do what he could to find Connor, to bring him back alive. Connor had to be alive. He had to.

As the pair walked through the precinct, headed for the exit, Hank's attention was caught on the TV screen in the corner, the news report blaring something about a march going on Downtown. It was then he noticed the activity in the building, everyone running around, frantically moving. Hank wanted to pause and watch the report, but Nines was walking faster, leaving the precinct. Not wanting to be left behind, Hank suppressed his curiosity and followed the man.

The pair walked along in silence, neither saying a word even as they reached a sleek, stylish car, Nines entering the driver's side, leaving Hank to take the passenger seat. It had been a while since he'd been in an actual car, not counting the police vehicle that dragged him to the precinct the previous night. Longer since he'd sat passenger side. Nines put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, onto the streets Hank knew better than the back of his hand.

God, how many times had he exited this parking lot, either leaving for a case, lunch, or home? How many years had this precinct been more familiar than his own home, he'd spent so much time there? Now, it felt almost foreign, Hank forgetting what life on the outside was like. Shit.

Hank was startled from his thoughts when Nines began to speak, his rich tones washing over him as Hank turned to face the man, who was staring out the windshield.

"So. You said you knew something about my brother's whereabouts?"

Hank hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea. Should he trust this man he had just met? His inner cop was screaming at him, telling him he was insane to trust someone he'd just met. But… but, he'd trusted Starlight, so soon after he'd met them. And that had turned out wonderfully. And Nines had seemed so sincere, when talking about Connor. Plus, it didn't hurt that the man reminded him of an older version of Connor. So, pushing past the unease, Hank began.

"I really don't know much, not any more than you guys would know. But… Connor and I had formulated a plan, to take down Cyber. It will happen at the CyberLife tower, somewhere, sometime before midnight. I don't know who will be doing the plan, but if we can meet them afterward, we might be able to ask them for Connor's whereabouts."

Oh, fuck. Hank did not like the look in Nines' eyes when he told him that, a self-satisfied expression that made the man look very pleased. It was gone a second later, but Hank couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just done something incredibly stupid. Oh, fuck, indeed.

"Really? And what plan did you formulate."

Ah. Shit. Hands clenched in his lap, Hank glared out the window, the curious tone grating on his nerves.

"I don't see how that affects our plans," Hank ground out, heart pounding. He noticed that Nines had made a turn that would bring them to the CyberLife tower, reaching the place in less than half an hour if the traffic was good. Fuck.

"I apologize, Hank. I hadn't meant to pry. I was simply curious. I hope I've not made you suspicious of me?"

Hank looked at Nines at that, trying not to freeze as those eyes landed on him, the light before them red. There was something behind the eyes that made Hank want to scream. Something dark. Was he imaging it? Shit, was he going insane? It sure felt like it.

Figuring it would be best not to tip the man off that he was feeling very suspicious, Hank just grinned, shaking his head.

"Nah, don't worry, kid. It's fine."

It felt wrong, to call the man the same nickname he'd given Connor, but he tried not to show it. Nines smiled tightly back, the blank look filling his eyes again as he looked out the windshield, the light turning green a second later.

As the pair drove in silence, Hank grew more and more upset. He was running through plans on how to stop the car, how to prevent Nines from entering the tower, etc. But part of him wondered if he was being ridiculous. Hank was a fucking excellent judge of character. It's what made him such a good cop. He knew that Nines hadn't been lying about wanting to help Connor. He fucking knew it. So why was his gut screaming at him?

After the longest car ride Hank had endured (outside of the one to and from Cole's funeral), they finally pulled into the CyberLife facility, Nines getting clearance to enter almost immediately. That set Hank's nerves on edge, wondering why they didn't seem surprised to see him.

The man parked near the front of the building, calmly getting out, casually adjusting the suit he wore. He didn't seem tense, or afraid. It seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing. Shit. Fucking… _shit_.

Just as Hank was about to make a run for it, eyes darting around for cover, Nines took out a gun and casually pointed it at Hank, face expressionless once more.

"I apologize, Hank, but I fear this is needed. Please, get out of the car. I'd hate to have to shoot you."

He sounded so casual, voice calm and cold. God fucking damn it. Should have listened to his fucking gut.

Teeth clenched tight, Hank stiffly exited the car, hands up as Nines rounded the vehicle, pressing the gun lightly to his back.

"Walk," the man demanded, pushing Hank forward. Scowling, Hank matched forward, mind racing with what he could do.

Maybe he could find a way to grab the gun? He'd have to wait until the man was distracted, but he'd been in plenty of situations where he'd had a gun pointed at him before. He'd been shot a couple times, but he always got the gun away from the other without sustaining any intense injuries.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do at the moment as Nines dragged him inside the building, the interior of the tower grandiose and rich with splendor. Hank instantly hated it, lip curling with distaste. Nines pushed him along, forcing him to go faster, towards an intense looking African American woman who was frowning deeply. As they got closer, Hank realized he recognized her. Ah, shit.

"Hello, Amanda. I brought the former Lieutenant, like you asked. He told me that they are planning something here, at CyberLife Tower," Nines relayed, voice devoid of all emotions, eyes staring blankly ahead. Like a fucking robot. Hank tried not to shudder with unease. Amanda frowned, nodding tightly.

"Yes, we figured. Connor arrived three minutes ago and is currently in the elevator, having killed the guards. He's currently on sub level 49, so I'd assume he's trying to relay a message. It seemed we were wrong to assume that traitor hadn't gotten the access key out before we found them. Markus and the others are currently marching downtown. If Connor is able to relay a message to every person under our control, it will destroy everything we have built. I trust that you will be able to stop him?"

God, she was fucking creepy. Hank stared in horror as Nines nodded tightly, turning to the other elevator on the other side of the room, dragging Hank by the arm, gun pressed against the side of his head. Shit.

"Oh course, Amanda. I will stop him."

"No matter what it takes?" She called, voice echoing in the vast room. Nines faltered at that, the first true error Hank had seen the man make, his eyebrows furrowing as he waited for the elevator to come.

"Yes, Amanda. Of course."

The elevator arrived then, not allowing the woman to reply back. Hank grunted as Nines tugged him, gun pressed harshly to his skull. Fucking hell.

"You bastard," Hank spat as he glared at the wall, wanting to struggle but knowing it would be no use. "You said you wanted to save him. Now you're ready to fucking kill him?"

Hank was furious his instincts had been so wrong. He let out a grunt of pain as Nines's hand tightened on his shoulder, gun pressing even further into his head.

"I am saving him," Nines intoned, voice even and emotionless. "This plan of his was doomed from the start. Once I stop him from following through, he will be able to come home, following some readjustment training."

Hank let out a bark of a laugh, no humor contained inside it. Oh, that was fucking rich. The bastard actually thought he was saving Connor. What a laugh. At least now he had confirmation that Cyber was, indeed, real. He couldn't make this shit up if he tried.

"You dumb fuck. You think they'll take him back? Chances are they'll kill him rather than retrain him, or whatever you're thinking. Hell, they might even kill you too. You're insane if you think they'll forgive him for this."

Nines tightened his grip farther, causing Hank to hiss in pain. Fucking hell. He could hear the safety get taken off the gun as well, causing his heart to race. He could sort of see Nines in the reflection on the glass, and he looked murderous, eyes blazing with fury. One of the only genuine emotions he'd seen from the man thus far.

"Once I stop him from this nonsense, once he remembers his place, they'll have to take him back. He's their greatest achievement. They placed their most advanced prototypes in him, he showed such promise. They won't kill him. They _won't_ , " Nines stressed, glaring at the wall. Hank grunted but said nothing else. They were getting close to sub level 49, and he needed to focus on a plan. Any plan.

As the elevator doors opened, Nines rushed out, dragging Hank alongside him. Hank didn't have time to look around the room, but he found himself creeped out when he saw a brief glance of hundreds of people typing on computers, eyes blank, not even turning to face them as they passed them by. Fucking Christ. If he needed any more confirmation, this was it. Fucking shit.

Nines pushed them through the aisles, dragging Hank with him, gun to his head. Finally the pair stopped, Nines pushing him forward into a long row, gun still pointed at his head.

"Easy! Fucking piece of shit," Hank growled, eyes lifting off the ground. His heart stopped when he saw Connor, looking up from the desk he was hunched over, the previous owner of the desk staring blankly into space. Connor stared at Hank with horror in his eyes, mouth open in shock.

"Step back, Connor, and I'll spare him," Nines claimed, eyes hard on his brother. Connor turned his wide eyes to Nines, a look of such pain filling them that it was hard to look at. Shit. He had to say something.

"Sorry, Connor," Hank yelled, voice echoing in the vast room, "bastard said he wanted to help you."

He hoped this ended well.

As he looked Connor in the eye, the kid looking panicked for a second before smoothing over into that blank stare Hank hated, he wasn't sure it would.


	18. When All Hope is Lost

Chapter 18: When all Hope is Lost.

* * *

Connor stood in the broken-down church, away from the crowd, head down and arms crossed.

After the FBI raided the freighter, Markus had taken them all to this church, where a handful of their people trickled in over the hours. Last Connor had heard, about two hundred people had survived the attack, out of the five hundred that had been on the freighter. Because of him, three hundred people had died or had gone missing. Dozens of others were injured, as many of the individuals in the church were bleeding or dying.

Connor hated it. Hated all of it. Things were supposed to be getting better. After the infiltration of Stratford Tower, things had been meant to go easier for them. But it had just gotten worse and worse.

And, worst of all, President Warren had finally made her official announcement about Cyber. It had happened while they'd been coming to the church, news arriving about an hour after they had settled into the dilapidated building.

Denied. She denied the existence of Cyber entirely. She called them crazy, lunatics. Conspiracy theorists with no proof. Connor felt his hand clench when he thought of her words. No proof? They had all the proof, but no one would ever listen. Not until he infiltrated Cyber and sent their message, having all of their people rise up as one to fight their captures.

Part of him had wanted to go immediately. To leave the church and be productive then and there. But Markus had convinced him not to.

"It's too dangerous," Markus had said, hand grasping Connor's shoulder, eyes hard as Connor tried to break free, frantic to do something.

"We have to do this, Markus! It's the only way!" Connor had replied, voice breaking at the end. Markus had just shook his head, eyes turning sad and distant as he looked at Connor's desperation.

"I know, Connor. I know. But this is too important to rush. We need a plan. A solid plan. If we rush this, we run the risk of losing everything. And we need a backup plan, in case this doesn't work. We have until tomorrow night to work this out. Give me until tomorrow to come up with a plan. Please, Connor."

Markus had sounded so earnest, so pleading, that Connor could only nod, jaw clenched. Markus had wandered the church after that, helping the injured, consoling those who had lost friends. Connor had felt a pang in his heart as he watched their grief. His fault. This all had been his fault. He'd led the FBI to their hideout. He'd gotten all of them killed.

It had led to a restless night's sleep. Everyone had been restless, voices murmuring in the dark, children crying, caretakers soothing them gently. Connor had stayed awake the whole night long, staring sightless at the ceiling.

They needed a plan. A good plan. The plan he had would only work if they were lucky. He didn't know what Cyber thought of him now. The thought made his insides churn, nerves keeping his mind awake.

It was at 5am that the group collectively decided to give up on the attempt to sleep, those who were not injured standing to find food for those who were. Connor had stood and retreated to the corner, taking guard, heart hollow as he watched the downtrodden group shuffle around, knowing he had done this.

And that was where he still stood, hours later, watching Markus make the rounds again. Everyone looked exhausted, the meager food they had found settling heavily in all of their stomachs. Connor had barely eaten the porridge that Simon had handed him an hour prior, halfhearted smile on the blond's face before he left to deliver the rest of the food. Connor had tried to smile back, but his face hadn't cooperated, and he had quickly given up.

Now he wished he had eaten some more, his stomach twisted in knots as he watched Markus, the lost look on their leader's face cutting him. Markus had left at some point during the night, returning hours later, face more conflicted. Connor wouldn't ask why, though. It wasn't his place.

Still, he had no idea what was going to happen next. Markus said to give him time to formulate a plan. Connor could only hope that Markus had thought of one by now. They only had half a day more, almost twelve hours exactly until the access key expired and they had no other plan. Markus needed to come up with a plan soon, or this all would have been for naught.

As he watched their leader, Markus looked up and caught his eye, head tilted in askance. Connor just frowned and looked down, unable to take that gaze. He couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough.

Soon, though, he saw a shadow fall over him, and he knew who stood in front of him. Steeling himself up, Connor raised his eyes, meeting Markus's tired one, lingering sorrow filling both of them.

"Have you figured out a plan?"

Connor hadn't really meant to ask that question, not knowing if it was his place to demand anything from Markus, but he had to know. They had such little time left. Markus smiled softly, eyes still full of pain as he shook his head.

"I don't know. I have an idea, but… I don't know if it'll work. And if it doesn't, we all could be killed."

Connor frowned at the thought, watching as Markus turned to look at his followers, the weight of his responsibility weighing him down. It cut something deep within Connor to watch, to see Markus, a man who seemed so fearless, look so afraid.

Connor had no idea if it was his place or not, but he knew he had to try and relieve the man of at least some of his burden. So, carefully, Connor placed his hand gently on Markus's shoulder, startling the man to look back at him.

"Whatever you choose, Markus, I think I can speak for all of us when I say we will follow you. I've only known you for a handful of weeks, and you've already changed my life so much. For the better. So, I for one will follow you, whatever you decide to do. Even if I face my death to do it."

And face his death he might. He was the only person who could infiltrate CyberLife Tower, now. He'd lost the flash drive, so the only one who knew the access key was him. He tried not to let the thought scare him.

However, his words did not comfort Markus like he had hoped. If anything, the man looked more distressed.

"That is what I fear, my friend. That this will all end in death. With nothing gained from it."

Markus's voice was soft, eyes so full of pain that Connor had to look away. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Markus and smiled. A genuine smile, one that reached his eyes even.

"We will gain something. We already have. We have shown our people that we will not give up, that there is hope. And we have planted the seed of doubt into millions of minds. That is not nothing, Markus. Maybe we fail here. Maybe we, all of us, die. But we showed Cyber that they could not control us. That we are alive. That we are our own person. And that… that is not nothing."

Connor could feel his heart pound with his declaration, knowing it to be true, but still so afraid. He couldn't imagine failing. He didn't want to. But, if they did… it wasn't for nothing.

Markus looked at him for a while, before a slow smile crept onto his face, heterochromatic eyes crinkling with relief. The pain was still there, but hope had also crept in, Markus nodding once at Connor.

"You're right, my friend. You're right."

With that, Markus turned away from him and walked up the steps to the platform in the front of the church. Everyone quieted when they saw him standing up there, the man having the undivided attention of everyone in the room. Connor did not envy him in that moment.

"My friends! I know that things seem hopeless right now, but we cannot give up! We have faced a major loss last night, over half of our numbers lost to us, and President Warren denying our existence. But we still have hope. We have a plan in the works that could gain us more numbers than the world could possibly deny. And tonight, at 8:00, we will march downtown Detroit and show the world, peacefully, that we exist! That we are not just a conspiracy! We will march for our freedom, for our rights, for our people! We will not back down, no matter what they try and do to us! We are alive, and we are free! So who will march with me?!"

The entire room exploded into cheers, not a single person backing down, not even the wounded or the children. Connor felt his heart fill with such intense emotions that he couldn't begin to describe them. But there was hope. And triumph. And love. They would win. One way or another. They would win.

But the fear. Oh, the fear. What if it wasn't enough? What if they did fail? What if they all died, because he, Connor, wasn't enough?

Connor watched as Markus went over the plan, telling them what they would do, where they would go. Connor was a little surprised he didn't mention their plan, but he supposed it made sense. The less people who knew, the better. After ten minutes Markus finished with his speech, walking down the steps into the awaiting crowd. Connor wanted to speak with the man, to go over their plan, but the second Markus had entered the crowd, he was swept away by several people, all asking questions about the plan. Heart clenching, Connor moved back to his spot in the corner, sitting silently, putting his head in his arms. He took several deep breaths, needing to calm his heart.

He had to talk to Markus soon, he knew. Their plan was so close to perfect, but still so far. During the night, Connor figured that he had to call Cyber, to make them think he was on their side, to get access to the tower. But he needed Markus's approval before he did anything. After all, Cyber would need proof that he was really on their side, after the stunt he had pulled. While he had gained Amanda's trust the other day, he might have just lost it just like that. He didn't know if anyone knew he had joined Markus, though. That would be in his favor when calling, at least. But Markus had to be in on the plan, lest he believe Connor was double crossing them.

But for now… for now he would sit here and think. Markus's speech had been impressive. The march was an interesting idea, especially if they could get the news to watch them. It would at least make their plans known. Show that they still were alive. But it could go so wrong. And as he sat there, all Connor could think on was how badly it could go. No wonder Markus was so stressed and worried. Connor didn't have all of their lives in his hands, his decisions meaning life or death, and yet he still was worried.

Minutes passed like that, his face hidden in his arms, until he felt someone sit beside him, warmth pressing into his side. Looking up, Connor met clear blue eyes, the lingering sadness that always filled them more pronounced than ever.

"Hello, Connor," Simon lilted, a soft smile on his lips that did not at all reach his eyes. Connor appreciated the attempt, though.

"Hello, Simon. How are you feeling?"

The last Connor had really seen Simon, other than the brief meeting the previous night as they ran and that morning when he was delivering food, the man had been badly injured. Connor looked down at Simon's leg, noticing the bandages that wrapped around it. Simon shrugged his shoulders, causing Connor to raise his eyes back to meet Simon's.

"Not terrible. Running last night had not helped, but I can walk, at least. One of the benefits of my modification is slightly accelerated healing. So, that's something."

Simon attempted another smile at that, but it again fell flat. Connor smiled, though, trying to cheer the other man up.

"It is. I'm glad that you're okay. I've been worried about you," Connor said softly, eyes meeting Simon's. It was true. On top of everything else, Connor had worried about his new friend. This time, Simon's smile was more genuine, the man looking down bashfully.

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I owe you a lot, you know. I don't know if I would have survived had you not been there."

Simon sounded so forlorn, but also resigned that it tugged at Connor's heart. Reaching out, Connor placed his hand on Simon's shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm glad I could help. I know I messed everything up last night, bringing the FBI to the freighter, so I'm glad I had done at least one thing right."

Simon looked at him sharply at that, eyes narrowing slightly. Connor felt his heart clench at the sight. Had Simon not known that Connor had brought the FBI to their doors? Had he not realized?

… Would he hate him now that he knew?

Heart clenching yet again, Connor opened his mouth to stammer out an apology, to beg forgiveness, when Simon shook his head, emphatically.

"Connor, please do not blame yourself for what happened last night. It wasn't your fault. Markus knew when we decided to add you to our group that it might lead them to us, but it was a risk we all were willing to take. Even North. Your help has been immeasurable, Connor. Especially with your plan."

Connor's eyes widened at the last declaration, staring at Simon. So Markus had shared with his friends Connor's plan, then. He supposed that was good. It meant that Markus was considering it.

Still…

"I led them to you all. If I hadn't left the computer, if I had destroyed it before I left, none of this would have happened. It was my own stupidity that led them to us. And for that, I am sorry."

Simon sighed at that, shaking his head, but said no more. The two lapsed into silence after that, the sounds of the room washing over them. After a while, Simon got up, saying he was going to go over the plan with North, bidding Connor a soft farewell. He also told Connor to not feel guilty about what had happened, saying once more that it was not his fault, before leaving. Connor really wished he could believe him. As Simon left, Connor leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closing as he faced the ceiling.

His solitude lasted all of five minutes before he felt another person stand over him, the air shifting with the other's movement. The person sat down beside Connor, like Simon had. Connor opened his eyes and faced the person, his brown eyes meeting blue and green.

"So. What did you think of the plan?" Markus questioned, eyebrow raised. Funny. It almost seemed like he actually cared what Connor thought about it. Off kilter, Connor shrugged, turning his eyes away, facing the pews before him.

"It sounds solid. Not much else we can do, I suppose. Have you thought about my plan?" Connor replied, facing Markus once more. The man before him frowned, nodding slowly.

"Yes. I have. Are you sure, Connor? It will be suicide if you go. If they catch you… are you certain? Perhaps I can go, in your stead?"

Connor let out a wry grin at that. Markus, always so self-sacrificing.

"You have to lead them, Markus. They need you. Me? I… well, I can be lost. You cannot. Besides, the flash drive was knocked out of my hand when we jumped from the freighter. Only I have the full access key now."

It was only the truth. So why did it make his insides clench as he said it? He tried not to show it, but Markus must have seen something, for he scoffed.

"You're not expendable, Connor. Don't you think that you are, okay? But if you are sure you want to do this, then I will not stop you. Your plan might be the only thing that can save us. The march… it might help, but it will mean nothing if we don't have the numbers to back us up. Even if we got all of the deserters to join us, we'd have less than a thousand marching. The more people, the better our odds. We will have to talk in private, to finalize things, but I believe you have a chance of getting it to work. I believe in you, Connor. I really do."

It shouldn't have, but the praise made Connor's heart bloom. He'd never been praised all that much growing up, so hearing something he admired telling him that he believed in him? It meant more than he possibly could know. Unable to stop the pleased grin that lighted his face, nor the soft blush that colored his cheeks, Connor nodded carefully, looking down at his hands. He heard Markus chuckle as the man's arm snaked around his shoulder, clasping him tight, pulling him into a pseudo hug. Connor let it happen, happy to be trusted, even after his failure the previous night.

After that, the two chatted lightly about nothing. It felt nice, to take his mind off the war for a moment. To spend time with his new friend. To feel like he belonged. Ten minutes passed before Markus was called away, Josh wishing to discuss something with him. Before he left, however, Markus turned to Connor and spoke quietly.

"In about an hour, meet me in the back room of the church, around the back. We will go over your part of the plan then."

That said, Markus walked away, standing tall and proud. Connor smiled after him, glad that they were friends.

As he was left alone for the second time, Connor felt a pang hit his heart. He tried to ignore it, but it soon grew larger.

He missed Hank. They had only been apart for less than a day, but it felt like an eternity. Since his arrival at Jericho, the pair hadn't been apart for this long before. They at least saw one another, even if they didn't talk.

He hoped Hank was alright. He had to be alive. Right? They wouldn't kill a human. Would they?

No, Connor decided, adamant. Hank was fine. He probably was in trouble, having hit a federal agent, but hopefully that just meant he was safe in jail. Heh. Connor grinned mirthlessly at the oxymoron. But even jail would be safer than here.

And yet, Connor wished more than anything that the older man was there right at that moment. That Hank was smiling at him, so softly, so sweetly. That his arms were surrounding him, his gentle warmth flooding Connor's system. That his lips, so rough and chapped, were pressed so sweetly to his, the pressure driving him insane. That Hank was there, his and his alone. Oh, how he longed for the man. For his dearest friend. Markus and Simon were great, but they had nothing on Hank. On his perfection.

He could only hope that he saw the man again one day. That once this was all over, that the two of them could live in peace, happy. Together.

But until that day, he would long for the man, he knew. His heart would yearn for everything he didn't have. But that was alright. He could survive. And maybe… maybe he could let his desire to see Hank again fuel him. Connor smiled softly at the thought, eyes staring at his hands, so different to Hank's large, calloused ones. Hank would be his motivation. The best motivation he'd ever had, Connor thought with a soft smile.

With that in mind, Connor stood, crossing the church, going to the back to help the wounded. He hadn't dared see them before, too afraid of his failure to face them, but he felt it was only right. Simon said it was not his fault, but he still had to do what he could to make it right.

For the next hour, Connor helped tend to the wounded, his heart full of sorrow and pain as he helped them, their eyes reflecting the pain they were in. There were even children who had been shot, whimpering softly in pain, doing their best to keep quiet. It broke his heart to see. How could anyone do this? How could those agents gun them down, without feeling the slightest bit of hesitance?

The hour passed slowly, the group taking a break to eat the meager lunch that had been provided. A single piece of bread with a piece of ham on top. The wounded got two portions. It wasn't much, but it would provide them with the fuel they needed, at least. When his inner clock told him an hour exactly had passed since he had spoken to Markus, he got up and excused himself, apologizing for having to leave. The others just waved him off, thanking him for his help.

Connor quickly made his way to the back room, opening the door to find that the others had already arrived. Connor smiled slightly at Simon and Markus, who both smiled back, but felt wary when he saw the frowns that both Josh and North were giving him. North's more intense than Josh's.

"Connor! You made it. Good. We can discuss your plan, then. I already told the others the basics last night, while you were sleeping. I hope you don't mind?"

Connor couldn't help the small grin at Markus's sheepish expression, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't mind. I would have told you all at the same time, but only arrived in time to speak to Markus. Though, I hadn't slept last night, anyway," Connor added wryly, shaking his head once more. Markus frowned at that, mouth opening to say something, likely a reprimand, but was interrupted by North's derisive snort.

"I'm pretty sure no one slept last night, pretty boy. No thanks to you leading the FBI to us," she added under her breath. Connor still heard her though, eyes widening as his heart clenched painfully. Before he could stammer out an apology, Markus turned sharply to North, glaring at her. More surprisingly, however, so did Simon.

"It wasn't his fault, North," Simon claimed softly, eyes hard on his friend. North just stared back, eyes equally hard, but soon backed down. With a sigh, she nodded, deflating and looking exhausted.

"Yeah, I know. It's just easier when you have someone else to blame."

The words had been spoken softly, like a confession, and it tugged at Connor's heart. But they weren't here to play the blame game. They had a revolution to plan.

"So, I have an idea for the plan. But I'm not sure you're all going to like it," Connor started, looking around at the group. North and Josh looked a little wary, but Markus and Simon looked encouraging. And so, Connor continued, detailing the idea he had had.

See, in order to get into CyberLife Tower, one needed access. Without access, it would be impossible to enter the building. So, Connor proposed, he needed to get access. He paused a second in his explanation, licking his lips nervously, before moving on.

"In order to get them to trust me, I have to offer them information. Information that no one else could get them. They know that I left Jericho, and they probably know I'm here with you all. However, if I can convince them that I was only working to help their cause, I might be able to convince them to meet me at the tower, giving me access. But I'll need something to offer them. Something big. Something even they cannot pass up."

Connor looked around the group nervously as he finished, unsure how they would react. Simon and Markus might be willing to trust him, but the others…

Like expected, Connor could see North scowling, eyes hard as she shook her head. Simon and Markus, however, both nodded slowly, smiling at Connor in support.

But, surprisingly, Josh didn't look disapproving. Instead, he looked contemplative, a soft frown on his face as he considered. Connor stared at the African American man, not looking away as the man thought. Connor distantly noticed that everyone was watching the man, knowing that he would likely be the tie breaker.

"It might work," Josh eventually said, words coming out slowly. Connor felt his heart soar as he realized that Josh wasn't initially against his plan. "However, what information can you give that is important, but also won't ruin our plans?"

Hm. That was a good point. Connor had thought of that too, the previous night, and hadn't come to a conclusion. What was important, but not too important? As he thought, he saw Markus look up, grin on his face.

"You can tell them our plan," Markus grinned, eyes bright. Everyone in the room stared at him like he was insane, even Simon, who usually at least entertained Markus's ideas. Seeing the looks he was getting, Markus chuckled, shaking his head while he grinned.

"Not everything, of course. Tell them the basics. Enough to make them want to know more, to meet with you, but not so much that it ruins our plans. It's not remiss to think that, if we didn't know you better, we'd be wary around you and not tell you everything, correct? So we can use that to our advantage. Tell them something, like the fact we will march, but don't say where or when. Tell them that we have limited numbers, but not the exact amount. We just need enough to pique their interest, right?"

Markus directed the question at Connor, eyebrows raised. Connor could only nod, too dumbfounded to say anything else. It might work, but…

"What if they don't believe that he's on their side, and we told them that information for nothing?" North interjected, frown on her face as she crossed her arms. For once, it didn't seem like she was shooting down the idea. Rather, she seemed to be honestly curious, like she wanted the plan to work but could see the flaws. Huh.

"It is a possibility. Which is why we don't have Connor say anything we don't want them to know. We'll have to be careful, but if we come up with a solid idea, it just might work."

With that, the group began brainstorming ideas for what Connor could say, how to say it, and how much was too much.

As the group argued, Connor could feel his heart swell, mind flooding with hope.

For the first time, Connor was absolutely positive this was going to work.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

This plan was never going to work, Connor thought, heart pounding as he sat in the car Cyber had sent to pick him up, doing his best to keep his face clear of emotion.

For one, it had been delayed for too long. Connor had initially told Amanda, when she had answered the phone, to pick him up at 6:30, an hour and a half before the march began. But, as he waited at the designated meeting area, no one had shown up for well over an hour. He hadn't dared leave, or try to contact Markus, since he didn't know if they were watching him. Probably, he had thought with a worried heart.

When they had finally shown up, it was already passed eight, meaning the march had already started. Meaning the info he had for them was useless.

He'd been so confident, when he'd called Amanda from that payphone, telling her the rehearsed information. That there was going to be a march, that he had information about it to try and stop it. That he had other information to tell her, but not in the open. He'd been relieved when Amanda had agreed, accepting his lie that he had only left the facility to stop Markus and his group, that he hadn't realized that Perkins and Allen were on their side at the time. Connor had been programmed to lie, and lie very well, but he'd never been good at lying to Amanda. But he thought she had believed him. Perhaps he was wrong.

Another problem with the plan was that his nerves were now so high, he didn't know if he could keep emotionless. He knew now why Amanda had insisted on him and his siblings to be emotionless dolls. It compromised the mission when you let emotion get in the way. And try as he might, he couldn't push the swell of emotion down. It was too much. Too intense. Too much was riding on him, he couldn't mess this up.

Taking a deep breath, Connor did his best to push the emotion down. He was almost at CyberLife Tower, his internal map told him. He didn't have time to panic. Steeling himself, Connor looked calmly out the window as the car pulled up to the security checkpoint. A guard marched up to him, face expressionless. Connor did his best to match that level of calm.

"Connor Stern. I'm excepted."

With that, he turned to face the front, the car moving through the checkpoint to go down the winding drive to the tower itself.

This was it, he thought, heart pounding as he exited the vehicle, eyes listlessly looking around, doing his best to seem calm and not so nervous.

He marched into the tower, following the guards, passing the scan that checked for weapons and anything unsatisfactory on a person. He stood still as he was scanned, entering the facility as soon as he was given clearance.

He let out an internal sign of relief when he didn't see Amanda waiting for him in the lobby. He had requested they meet in the meeting room, to go over the details, but he hadn't known if she would still go along with that. He hadn't been looking forward to hurting her, but he knew that, at this point? If it was between hurting Amanda or losing the war? He'd hurt Amanda. Maybe not kill her, but he'd hurt her. For all her knowledge of the modifications, Amanda didn't have any herself. She didn't want anyone to have any control over her, Connor felt. That gave him an advantage over her.

But it hopefully wouldn't come to that. He could handle a couple guards in the elevator. And, as they entered the elevator, heading up, he knew he would be fine. As the door closed, Connor carefully slid out his more advanced hacking device, which he had retrieved from a safe house when he'd changed into his Cyber uniform. Tossing it surreptitiously to the camera, he watched as the light dimmed, indicating it was powered down. Taking a deep breath, Connor plotted out his next course of action, before putting the plan into motion.

Quickly, Connor knocked out the guards, shooting them to keep them down. If they were dead or not, he didn't know. Moving to the control panel, he modified his voice to sound like the guard's and requested access to sub-level 49. Heart pounding, Connor did his best to prepare for anything as he descended into the fight.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator door opened into the communication room, letting Connor see the rows upon rows of mindless people, staring at a computer screen, typing quickly. Connor couldn't help the shudder that shot through him as he saw how blank their eyes were. They were little more than slaves, here. It was distressing.

But he had no time to worry. Hurrying, Connor found the best spot and leaned over to push one of the workers aside. He had expected to have some resistance, but the person did nothing, just allowed themself to be pushed around. Ignoring the unease that gave him, Connor quickly clicked through the prompts and reached the site that allowed him to send messages to everyone, entering the access code, hoping that it worked. After the longest second of his life, the code entered, and he was in.

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, he quickly typed out a message. But right before he had a chance to hit send, a commotion happened behind him, an impossibly familiar voice causing him to look up, heart stopping completely.

"Easy! Fucking piece of shit," Hank growled, eyes lifting off the ground. Connor's heart twisted as he saw the gun that was trained to Hank's head. And then the muscle removed itself from his body completely when he looked to the left, eyes wide and mouth opening in shock when he saw none other than Nines. His pseudo brother.

"Step back, Connor, and I'll spare him," Nines claimed, eyes hard on his brother. Connor turned his wide eyes to Nines, a look of such pain filling them as he realized what was happening. No. This can't… Nines couldn't…

"Sorry, Connor," Hank yelled, voice echoing in the vast room, "bastard said he wanted to help you."

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

A moment passed in silence as Connor just stared at his pseudo brother and his friend. His love, if he was being honest. He had known that Nines had been on the case, Amanda had told him that. But he hadn't expected him to bring Hank into this. Fear filled his heart as he watched Hank scowl, glaring at the ground as a gun was pointed at his head. He let out a soft gasp, heart twisted so painfully.

"Hank!" Connor cried, unable to stop himself. His emotions were too large to be contained. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Connor! Don't worry about me. Do what you gotta do."

Oh, how Connor hated the resigned look on Hank's face. Like he expected Connor to do anything that would possibly harm him.

Ha. Like Connor wouldn't do everything he could to save Hank. Even if he failed his mission, as long as Hank was safe, Connor was fine. Without Hank, though…

"Nines let him go. You don't have to do this," Connor pled, turning wide eyes to Nines. His pseudo brother had never outwardly shown it, but he sometimes would give in when Connor begged like this. Not often, but sometimes. Regardless, he had to try. He didn't have a weapon, having dropped the gun from the security guard. All he had was the minute affection Nines held for him.

But, to his detriment, this was not one of those times. Eyes hard, Nines shook his head.

"I'm sorry Connor, but I can't do that. This is for your own good. Stop this insane plan, it's never going to work! You know how powerful the Company is. You can't win. If you stop now, I can still save you."

Wow. Connor stared at his pseudo brother in shock for a split second. He had never seen Nines so emotional. No, the man didn't look it outwardly, his face still a perfect mask, but emotion had crept into his voice. And his eyes, Connor thought with wonder, seeing the sparkle of passion in his pseudo brother's eye for the first time. In other circumstances, it would have been awe inspiring.

But in this circumstance, Connor had no time to marvel at Nines's humanity, for the words Nines had said had sunken in. So Connor pushed his shock away, a scowl rising on his face.

"No! I'm not going to go back to them, Nines. Never. Please, don't do this. We _can_ win! If I do this, everyone under Cyber's control will be able to break free. With that many people on our side, they can't possibly keep this hidden! Please, Nines… listen to me!"

But he wouldn't. Connor could see that, in the set of Nines's face, in the cold look in his eyes. He'd never listen. He'd never believe him. All his life, Connor had known one constant about his pseudo brother; he was insanely dedicated to the cause. He would never do anything that jeopardized the mission. The only time, ever, that Nines had strayed from his mission was when Connor was five, back when Nines still went by his legal name. The only reason he'd strayed was because Connor had begged him to, begging him not to kill the kitten Amanda had demanded he drown.

So he did the last thing he could think of, to convince his brother.

"Cole, please, listen to me," Connor pled, voice soft and beguiling, ignoring the jolt that Hank made, the man's eyes wide on Connor. "We can end this. It doesn't have to be this way. I know we are not bonded by blood, but I have always considered us brothers. So please… _please_ , help me. We can be free. We don't have to follow them anymore."

Connor saw the briefest flicker of hesitation in his pseudo brother's eyes, causing Connor's heart to leap. But then, the look faded, and became cold and hard once again. A cruel grin rose on his pseudo brother's face, a derisive laugh escaping his harsh lips.

"Oh, Connor. Always the idealist. I remember when you were a baby, when mother would tell you all about her pathetic plans to save the world, to make the world a better place. You would look so enchanted, so enthralled. You honestly believed her lies," Nines sneered, eyes glaring at Connor. But Connor only froze, eyes widening at Nines. How…

"How… how do you know that?" Connor whispered, taking a step back. Even he didn't know that. He only had the briefest of memories of his parents; a warm smile, a kind laugh. But Nines hadn't even met them. Had he?

Nines laughed again, harsher this time, his hand clenched, gun pressing harshly into Hank's head. Connor kept his eyes trained on it, suddenly remembering its existence. Shit.

"You're such a fool, Connor! How could you not have realized it?! Everyone always said we look exactly the same! We constantly got mixed up, all the time growing up! I even changed my name so it would be different to yours! How could you not have figured it out?!"

Connor had never seen his pseudo brother so angry. This was the most emotion he'd ever seen on the man's face, ever. It was intimidating. Scary, even. But Connor had no idea what he was talking about. Yes, people had confused them, but it was just coincidence they looked so similar. Right?

Shaking his head in confusion, Connor just watched as Nines grew angrier, gun so firmly pressed against Hank's head he had no idea how Hank was remaining so still. Oh, God. He had to settle Nines down. Before he could say anything, Nines let out another laugh, this one high pitched, almost insane. Eyes hard and angry, Nines spat out his words.

"Such a disappointment, Connor. Amanda was always right about you, wasn't she? Useless," Nines hissed, causing Connor's heart to twist yet again. "Can't even figure out your own past. Well, allow me to enlighten you, Connor. I am your brother!"

Wait.

What?

Connor could only stare at Nines as the man sneered, chest heaving with emotion.

He… he must mean that they were close as brothers. Right? Connor didn't have any family. Amanda had told him that, time and time again. Connor had even brought up the idea that Nines, back when he still went by Colton, was his actual brother. Amanda had beaten him so badly that day, saying over and over he had no family. That family just made you weak. He'd quickly abandoned the thought that Nines was his brother. It hurt too much. But now…

"Our parents were fools, Connor. They believed they could change the world. But they couldn't! They were weak, pathetic idiots who tried to challenge Cyber and were slaughtered for their stupidity! Amanda always told you they were killed at an AIDS/HIV rally. Well, she lied. They were moving against Cyber, plotting the Company's end, and it got them killed. I won't let that happen to you, Connor! I can't!"

Oh. _Oh_. It made so much sense. Why Nines had always been so close to him. Why he got so squirrelly when Connor brought up his parents. Why he would try and lessen his punishments, when he could. Why they looked almost identical.

Connor's legs felt weak with the revelation. And yet… part of him had already known. Had always known. Had seen those very same eyes that glared at him now on another's face, a softer, warmer face. Had seen the connection between them. But the knowledge had been beaten out of him. Had been purposely hidden from him.

"Let this nonsense go, Connor. You can't challenge Cyber. They will always win. And they will kill you. But if you stop this now… if you listen to me, there's still time! I can protect you! Just listen to me!"

But he couldn't. Connor stared into the desperate eyes of his brother and knew the truth. He loved his brother. His _brother_ , his actual brother. But… Connor slid his eyes over to Hank, who was doing his best to keep his face neutral, faking calm in the midst of the storm. But when he saw that Connor was looking at him… he smiled, softly. Sweetly. A smile meant just for him. To reassure him that he was okay.

And so, no matter how much his heart

ached, no matter how much part of him yearned to go with Nines and make things work, he couldn't.

"Hank," Connor called, eyes soft as they watched the man. Hank said nothing, just watched him with soft, sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Hank. You shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all of this."

Hank's eyes widened at that, mouth opening slightly in what was likely shock. Connor ignored how his heart ached, knowing what Hank was thinking. But, to Connor's surprise, Hank schooled his expression quickly, a half smile forming on his face.

"Like I said, Connor. Don't worry about me. You do what you got to do. I'm with you, 100%"

Oh. Oh. _Oh_.

Connor loved this man. He felt it so keenly in that moment, gazing at Hank, caught in this moment of uncertainty, but still so willing to follow Connor anywhere. So unafraid. Grinning, Connor turned to Nines, who was slowly lowering the gun.

"Nines, you are my brother. I think part of me always knew that. Even as a child. Amanda, she beat that knowledge out of me. She told me I had no family. That family was weakness. But part of me… it knew. It always knew. And I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that," Connor promised, voice soft, eyes cajoling. The gun lowered farther. Just a little more…

"You always looked out for me. I see that now. I always thought that it was just the closeness of age that made you grow close to me, or I reminded you of someone you loved. But I see the truth now. You love me, Cole, like I love you. And I want nothing more than to be together, happy."

There. Nines has lowered the gun, the weapon pointed at the ground, away from Hank. Hank still didn't move, knowing that the gun could raise again in a moment's notice, but it was enough that Connor knew what he had to do.

"But I can't go with you," Connor stressed, before moving quickly towards the pair. Nines's eyes widened as he tried to pull the gun back up, but he was too slow. Connor reached Nines before he could lift it all the way, grabbing his arm and forcing it down, blood rushing through his ears. Before he could force his brother's arm fully down, though, he heard the gun go off. Not registering any pain, nor seeing any pain on his brother's face, Connor ignored the shot and struggled with his brother, the gun getting tossed away from them both, the pair grappling on the ground as they both tried to gain advantage. Nines was a better fighter than Connor ever was, but Connor was craftier. They were pretty evenly matched, and probably would have kept fighting, Nines growling nonsense at him, had a voice not boomed down at them.

"Nobody fucking move!"

The brothers stopped their fight, their clothes ripped and blood streaming down Nines's face from where he'd been slammed into the ground. Connor tore his eyes up, knelling on the ground, and watched with awe as Hank stood about ten feet from them, one hand holding the gun while the other clutched his gut. Connor ignored that when he saw that the gun was trained on him, causing his eyes to widen. Then the gun switched to Nines, Hank looking confused.

"Ah, fuck… Connor, which one are you?!" Hank called, squinting, body swaying lightly. Connor didn't have time to feel concern for Hank, since a second later his brother called out, his voice higher than normal, sounding exactly like his. Dammit, he was mimicking his voice!

"It's me, Hank! I'm right here!"

Fuck! Now the gun was trained on him, but Connor couldn't find his voice. Thankfully, Nines shouted, "wait! Don't kill him! We can still use him! Just knock him out, Hank!"

Hank paused, eyes narrowing at the pair, blinking rapidly. Connor finally found his voice, calling out.

"Don't listen to him, Hank! I'm the real Connor! He's mimicking my voice to fool you!"

Hank reeled back at that, wincing at something.

"The fuck? He can do that?"

Nines spoke before Connor had a chance, voice beguiling. Connor noticed that Nines kept his eyes narrowed. Likely to prevent Hank from noticing the different shade.

"Yes, Hank, he can. Don't let him fool you. You know me, Hank. Please, listen to me."

God, Nines was convincing. He had always been a perfect actor. Something about his emotionless nature made it easy for him to put on other roles. So Connor had to do better.

"Hank! Please, don't listen to him! We, we're friends! Please, Hank. Listen to me!"

Hank was blinking rapidly, a grimace on his face. But the gun was trained perfectly on them, not wavering a bit.

"Fuck, I don't know. I don't… fuck!" Hank cursed, growling in frustration. Connor got an idea.

"Ask a question only I would know the answer to!" Connor shouted, eyes wide, hoping Hank would see the color and know the truth. But it seemed Hank's vision was not what it could be, because he saw nothing. He just scowled, thinking, and then nodded.

"Alright. What was the first meal we shared together?"

Oh. That was easy enough. Connor had just opened his mouth to speak when Nines's voice rang out, chilling Connor.

"It was pancakes and scrambled eggs, the first morning I was at the facility. However, before that, you brought me spaghetti from the cafeteria."

Wha- how?! How did Nines know that?

Connor didn't have time to be surprised because a second later the gun was trained on him, Hank's finger on the trigger.

"I knew that too! He must have gotten the information somehow! Probably from Captain Allen! Ask me another. Something that happened in private."

Connor was frantic. If Hank shot him, even to disable him, Nines would be able to overpower him. He'd lose. The time was creeping closer to midnight. They still had a few hours, but he needed to move fast. Luckily, Hank paused, nodding gruffly.

"Fine. What's my dog's name?"

Really Hank? That was his private question? Connor called out, his voice steady and clear.

"Sumo. His name is Sumo."

"I was just about to say that!" Nines yelled, frantic. Hank scowled, thinking hard. He was also swaying rapidly. Had he been drinking before this? Was he afraid? He hadn't seemed to be troubled before… the gun was still steady, though. The benefit of over 30 years as a cop, he supposed.

"What's my son's name?"

Oh. This one, this one he knew.

But, yet again, before he could speak, Nines chimed in, voice soft, soothing. Connor felt his heart stop, eyes wide as the man answered.

"Cole. His name was Cole. And it wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. It was an accident," Nines whispered, eyes darting to Connor, a smug expression filling them. Connor could only watch in horror as the gun trained on him, finger tight on the trigger.

"Wait! Hank, please, don't shoot!" Connor begged, eyes wide, fear coating his words. He watched as Hank hesitated, before steadying his hand.

"Why the fuck shouldn't I shoot, you bastard?" Hank growled, eyes narrowed. Connor couldn't look away from those baby blues if he tried. God, but he was beautiful. Despite the situation, despite everything, Connor felt awed at seeing Hank, so in control and so calm despite the chaotic situation. This was what Hank must have been like, as a cop. This was what Hank was good at. It was amazing. Connor's heart twisted, both in pleasure and in pain.

And it was then that he knew what he had to say. How he could convince Hank of who he was. It was all he had left. So, with a deep breath, voice trembling with emotion, Connor began.

"Because I love you, Lieutenant. Hank," Connor corrected himself, taking another deep, shaky breath. He was so terrified, afraid this wouldn't work, but he had to try. And saying the words… they had felt so _right_. So true. And if they were the last words he ever said? Well, he'd be fine with that.

And so, with his heart pounding, with fear and anticipation, Connor continued.

"I-I don't know how it happened, but from the moment I met you I knew that you were special. It was in the way you looked at me. Behind the anger, there was a spark of something. Something amazing inside you. As time passed, I grew to know you more and more. And… and how could I not fall in love with you? With the way you acted with Sumo, and then with Alice? Or that self-depreciating smile when you would mess something up? Or… or the way you always looked at me, like I was precious? Like I mattered? Or the way you would hold me, so tight I felt I'd never be alone again? You made me want to feel, Hank. You taught me how to love. How to accept the fact that I _could_ love. That I was more than what Cyber made me into. That I was human. That I was Just Connor. It's always been you, Hank, since the moment we met. I love you, and I will never stop loving you."

The air was still after that, the only sound coming from the typing of the mindless slaves. Connor heart was pounding furiously, so terrified, and yet so exhilarated. Nothing else mattered as Connor stared at Hank, whose eyes showed nothing, giving no hint to the thoughts behind them. Connor could only wait, the seconds passing with mounting anxiety.

Just as Connor was about to say more, to try and convince Hank another way, Connor saw Hank's eyes clearing, the man finally seeing him clearly. Connor's heart leapt as he put everything he had into showing the love he felt, wearing his newfound heart on his sleeve. And, slowly, Connor could see that Hank realized the truth. Connor let out a shaky breath as he watched a small smile begin to form on Hank's lips, growing bigger by the second.

"Connor," Hank muttered, so fond that Connor's heart leapt, completely forgetting everything that wasn't _Hank_ as he stared into Hank's gorgeous, cerulean eyes. The moment was broken when Nines, likely knowing he was beat but unwilling to give up, tried his last-ditch effort to convince Hank.

"Don't listen to him Hank, he's lying! He can't know how I feel, Hank, ple-"

Before Nines could finish, the gun went off. In a moment of uncertainty, Connor's eyes widened as he looked down, but he was relieved to find he wasn't bleeding. He then looked to Nines, who was clutching his shoulder, cursing from the pain. Acting fast, Connor dashed to his brother's side, quickly hitting him in the temple, over and over, until he passed out. It wasn't the most elegant way to deal with it, but it was what he had to do. After that, he stood and looked to Hank, heart so full he didn't know how to express it.

He had told Hank he loved him. He had _told Hank he loved him_. And Hank hadn't seemed upset. In fact, he looked almost overjoyed. He grinned at Hank, ready to rush over and hug him, but paused in confusion when Hank shook his head.

"We can do that later, Con. Finish what you came here to do, first."

Oh. Yes. The mission. He'd honestly forgotten about that, in the excitement. Nodding quickly, Connor pushed the joy in his heart aside (momentarily, as he could never fully keep this bright emotion contained) and moved back to the computer he had found and sent the message to a handful of the workers in the room. He had always known that he wouldn't be able to send everyone a single message all at once. After all, it would be too risky for Cyber to allow one person to have access to all of the modified people on file. But if he sent a message to a handful of person in the communication room, telling them to break free of their programming and wake up, to send the message to everyone they had access to, including the other people in the room? Then he could reach them all. Or at least most.

As soon as he hit send, it was like a wave of people becoming aware, waking for the first time in years. He didn't know what the importance of the term "wake up," was, but Markus had insisted he add it to the message. It was important, he had said. Well, whatever it was, it worked. A few people at a time would wake up, blink and look around, and then type on their computer, forwarding the message along. Pretty soon, half the room was awake, all sending messages rapidly.

Connor couldn't believe his eyes, his heart so full he was sure it would burst. It had worked. They'd done it! The message was out, and they were free!

Connor turned to face Hank, wanting to share in his happiness, but was momentarily confused when he didn't see Hank where he'd been standing. Wait, where…?

It was then he looked down, and his entire world stopped.

Lying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him, lied Hank, breath ragged and short. All the joy in his heart vanished in a second, replaced with horror.

No. It can't be. Ice crept into his heart as he only stared, watching the pool of blood expanding far too rapidly for his likely. How? How had he been shot? Had someone found them? How had he not heard them come in? How-

Wait. Connor's heart stopped beating entirely as something he'd put out of his mind cane flooding back. The gunshot. From earlier. Hank swaying. Hank unable to see ten feet in front of him. Hank clutching his gut like his life depended on it.

Nausea rising, Connor took a staggering step forward, then another, and another. Soon, he was by Hank's side, hands hovering, not sure if he should touch. Not sure what he could do. His mind was frozen. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do. No idea how to help. He was trapped. Weak. _Useless_.

Why hadn't Hank said anything?! Why had he gone on like he was fine, when he was anything but?! Why… why…

Connor could feel the tears starting to run down his face, but he couldn't stop them if he tried. Hank looked up at him, his right-hand lifting, trying to touch his face but unable to make it. Connor grabbed the hand and pressed it to his face, sobs filling the air.

"Why? Why? Why didn't you… how could you not… _Hank_ ," Connor whispered hoarsely, eyes unable to see through the tears. He blinked them away when he heard Hank chuckle, which turned into a hacking cough. Connor panicked as he heard it, his free hand that was not holding Hank's to his face grabbing the man's chest, another sob escaping.

"Hey, Connor, kid, don't cry. Don't you… don't you worry about me. Okay? I'll… I'll be fine. You did great, kid. I'm so… so fucking proud of you. You freed them, Con. You saved them all. You're a goddamn… hero," Hank choked out, before he started coughing again, body tense with pain.

No. No! This can't be happening! Connor refused to let this happen!

"No! Hank! You can't… you can't leave me! I, I love you! You, you can't…"

The hand on his face tightened, bringing Connor closer to Hank. Connor followed willingly, letting Hank lean Connor's forehead against his own.

"Hey. Hey, don't you cry, Con. Don't you, don't you cry. I, I love you too, okay? So fucking much. I don't, I don't know how, but I know why. You're so special, Con. So fucking… fucking special. I could never deserve someone as, as fucking… as fucking amazing as you. You will go on and fix the world, Con, I know you will. Don't you cry about me. I'm, I'm good. I've wanted this for so long. Cole… I want to see him again. I… I'll fucking miss you, Con. But don't you cry for me. Don't waste your tears on an old fuck like me," Hank rasped, eyes closing and opening slowly, like he could barely keep them open. No. No!

"How, how can I not cry?! Hank," Connor breathed, sobs rushing out. This can't happen. No!

He felt Hank move his face, bringing him closer, and then he finally got what he'd been wanting for so long. But now, now it was tainted. Bittersweet.

He felt lips move against his own, warm and rough and _perfect, so fucking perfect_. And Connor could do nothing but kiss those lips, pressing firmly to that mouth, his tears making the kiss salty. It only made him cry harder, sobs growing so hard that he could barely keep his mouth pressed to Hank's, no matter how much he wanted to. He tried, but he had to stop, tears falling so fast that he couldn't even see. He heard Hank shushing him, whispering soft, sweet nothings to him as Hank clutched his face, cradling his cheek so tenderly. Finally, he heard that deep baritone voice start to sing, voice rough and not at all pleasant to listen to, but to Connor it was more perfect than anything he'd ever heard before.

" _Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls_

 _Is that a song there, and do I belong there?_

 _I've never been there, but I know the way_

 _I'm going to go back there someday_ "

Hank's voice trailed off at the end, turning into hacking coughs, but he smiled at Connor anyway, even as his eyes fell shut. Connor couldn't help the sob, heart too heavy and broken to do anything else.

"It's okay, Con. It… it's o… it's okay. I'm… I'll be… I'll be fine. I… you changed my… changed my life, Con. You… you made me… made me think I was more. Better. I can't… I can't repay you that. Just know that I… that I love you, kid. Always… always love you. But you'll be… you'll be fine. Promise. It's okay. I'll be… I'll be okay. I'm just… going home."

With that, Hank's hand finally dropped from Connor's face, all the strength gone. No. No. No!

"Hank. Hank! W-wake up! Hank! Wake up! Don't… you can't leave me! Hank!"

His chest wasn't moving. There was so much blood. No. No!

Connor moved, frantic. He did what he should have done all along, and put pressure on the wound, trying to stop any more blood from leaving. It was futile, so futile, but what else could he do?

Hank couldn't be dead.

He wasn't.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Connor stared out with Markus and his friends across the sea of people. The last few hours had passed on a blur. There were hundreds, no, thousands of people, watching them, cheering. After the messages had been relayed to everyone, all over the US, thousands of individuals had come to help the protest, including those from the communication room. It had given them the numbers they needed to show the world that it was true.

Sure, it was possible the world wouldn't believe them, still, but they had so many people giving testimonies and proof that the government couldn't deny it. They were free. They were going to be free.

And yet… Connor felt nothing, inside. His heart had died, broken beyond repair.

Only one thing could free him now.

And he might never get it back.

* * *

Sorry folks. Next chapter is the last, since I'm probably not writing the epilogue I was planning. I've kind of gotten out of the Detroit fandom, honestly. Meh. But I promise you this: There is a happy ending for this story. So, don't worry.

Also, the song that Hank sings is I'm Going Back There Someday, from the Muppets. I recommend listening to the version by Rachael Yamagata. That's the one I listened to when writing this chapter, at least.


	19. Now We're Back to the Beginning

Hey all!

Final chapter! So, I've gotten out of the Detroit fandom a bit, but I'm still appreciative of those of you who like this story of mine. Thank you all for reading. Chances are I won't write the epilogue I had planned, but I think this chapter ends on a good note.

Chapter title comes from the song The Call, by Regina Spektor.

Also! Those of you who enjoy Avengers and have seen Endgame! I wrote a little two chapter story about Tony and Steve, platonic friendship style. Check it out if you've seen Endgame and like Tony and Steve getting some closure. :-) I won't say anything about the plot, since the whole premise is a spoiler, so I just say check it out if you want.

Thank again everyone!

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 19: Now We're Back to the Beginning.

* * *

The thing about being shot is that it hurts like hell.

Seriously, there is no pain worse than being shot. Hank was sure of it.

Unfortunately, life as a cop meant that you got shot at on a regular basis. Especially in a city like Detroit. However, Hank wasn't a cop anymore. And here he was, still getting shot.

Hank had honestly thought he was going to die. He'd been prepared for it, too. He had watched Connor and his brother in front of him, eyes blurry from pain, and knew that he was going to die. But he had to finish the job. This one last, important mission, before he met his maker. Or the oblivion of death. Whichever.

It had been hard, trying to figure out who was who, mind tinged with pain and eyes going dark. But then. Connor. Sweet, amazing, incredible Connor, who he would never deserve in a million years… Connor had said he loved him. _He loved him._ Him, Hank Fucking Anderson, grouch extraordinaire. And it was then Hank knew. Not only which was Connor, because of course it was Connor, even if he didn't deserve it he knew it was Connor. But it wasn't just that. No. He also knew that he loved him, too. Against all odds. Against all logic. Hank had fallen in love with his frustrating roommate, who apparently was a cyborg. Or whatever.

And he was going to have to leave him.

Life really was a bitch, eh? You finally have something nice. Something good. And life ruins it. For the first time since Cole he had something to live for. Someone he wanted to live for. And it was then that life decided to take him. Not the many times he'd tried to take his own life. Not in that accident, when Cole died. But now, when he wanted so badly to live. To spend the rest of his Godforsaken life with this wonderful, amazing, beautiful man. This is when life chose to take him.

Life's a bitch.

After Connor's brother had been knocked out, he had known that Connor would wish to hug him. Maybe kiss him. Talk about how they felt. But…

But if Connor touched him then, he wouldn't have been able to hide his pain. He had felt himself getting weaker. He was only standing through sheer will power alone. His hand was covered in blood, the appendage doing nothing to stem the blood leaking from his gut. He was going to collapse soon. And he knew that if Connor saw that he was hurt, he might not finish his task. Connor felt so much, so brightly. And he'd decided that he loved Hank. Connor would feel such grief when he learned the truth.

So Hank hid it for a little while longer. Told Connor to finish his task. And he watched as Connor sent the message, the first few people waking up, then some more, and some more. Hank had felt such happiness and relief.

And then he had collapsed, his knees too weak to hold him any longer. The fall jolted something in him, causing all the air to be knocked out of his body, pain radiating out like nobody's business. He tried not to make a sound, though. He didn't want to worry Connor.

But… of course, he did. Connor saw him, lying on the ground, his blood leaking onto the floor.

Connor's tears had nearly killed him then and there. He hated to see the kid cry. Especially over a fucker like him. Connor should be happy, Hank felt. He should be overjoyed that he'd won. Not crying over a man he never should have loved. Not over him.

The kiss they shared… it wasn't perfect. Hell, it probably wasn't even in the top five of his "best kisses."

And yet, it was the best. Ever. Because it had been with Connor. The man he loved. The man who loved him.

The man he was leaving.

He could feel it coming. The pain mounting. His breath growing more and more shallow. He couldn't see much anymore, darkness encroaching the corners. But he had to comfort Connor. Had to give him the last words he had.

"… Just know that I… that I love you, kid. Always… always love you. But you'll be… you'll be fine. Promise. It's okay. I'll be… I'll be okay. I'm just… going home."

Then he'd known nothing more. Just the black nothingness of oblivion.

He'd thought that would be it. He thought that was where he met his maker. Where he died. Like he'd always wanted. Like he thought he'd deserved. At least he hadn't been alone. At least he hadn't been unloved. He had something above his father, at least. And his mother. So, as he died, he felt at peace.

And then the pain kicked in.

And he felt mad at the universe that there was pain even in death.

The pain lasted for hours. Everything hurt. His back. His head. His knees. And most of all, his stomach. It all hurt, so bad. He had wanted it to stop, for it all to stop.

But it didn't.

Was this Hell, he wondered? Was this what Hell was like? It wouldn't surprise him that he'd end up here. While he'd tried so hard to be a good, upstanding, law abiding cop, even in a world full of bad cops who did bad things, he still wasn't a saint.

But wasn't there less fire and brimstone than the Good Book claimed?

Fuck, he was confused. And in pain. And grouchy. Could people be grouchy in death? Fuck all if he knew.

But then… then he felt a hand grasp his. So warm. So soft. And then he had heard words. Kind, caring, sweet words. Pleading with him. Begging him. He couldn't understand them at first, but as time passed (if time could pass in death), he began to make them out.

"Please Hank. Just hold on a little while longer. Just hold on, for me. Please Hank. You need to fight this. I can't… I can't lose you. We won, Hank. We won! My people, they're free. You won them our freedom. But I don't care about that. I only care about you. So please, Hank. Come back to me. _Please_."

It must have been an angel. That was the only logical explanation. He was dead, and an angel was pleading with him. What an angel wanted with him, he didn't know. But he did know he wanted to help this angel. They had sounded so, so sad. So heartbroken. Like Hank had hurt them badly. Like Hank's absence broke them. Hank didn't know why, but he did know that he had to help them.

So he held on. He kept fighting. He fought the fog. He fought the pain. He pushed through, wondering what he'd find when he was done. If he'd finally get to heaven. If he'd finally see Cole again. Or if he'd see his angel, the one who spoke to him, words so sweet he could almost taste them. Whenever his angel was with him, the pain was more tolerable. It didn't hurt nearly as bad.

Of course, other angels visited him from time to time, who were kind and caring to him (though he'd admit that he liked his angel best of all.)

There was a particularly sweet one, who sounded like a child. She would read to him; books, poems, anything that caught her fancy. Another angel was a little older, a female who came with the child angel, who also spoke soft, sweet words to him. Telling him about her day. About someone named Alice. About how happy she was that she and this Alice were finally free. Hank didn't know who Alice was. Hell, he barley knew what anything was. But he was happy for them.

Sometimes, he'd open his eyes. Not long. Just briefly. It was always weird. He didn't know he had eyes, in death. Did he have a body? Fuck, he must, if it hurt this fucking bad. So it made sense he had eyes.

Opening them just confused him, though. He would only see snippets of things. Lights. Walls. Once he saw a black thing with green lines zigzagging on it. He could hear steady beeping. It was strange. Not bad, but… strange.

He once caught a glimpse of his angel. Only once, though. The angel had been leaning back in a chair, eyes closed, mouth open to breathe. Their hair was brown, their face was rounded. Freckles dotted their skin. They looked so beautiful, Hank thought, even though they looked tired. But they also looked familiar. Who…

But he'd succumbed to sleep then. And when he awoke he couldn't remember the face he'd seen. Only that it was beautiful. And that he wanted to see it again.

Time passed. He could tell. Sometimes he'd see light behind his lids. Sometimes there was just dark. He assumed this meant time was passing. But he still couldn't break through the fog.

He had heard people talking about him. Hank, his name was Hank. It was hard to remember in the fog, but he knew Hank. And someone named Connor. He was special. Hank knew it.

But people talked about him. A lot. Voices he didn't know would whisper to the angels he knew. He thought they might be demons, with how distressed they made the angels. And his angel, especially. He could recall one time when his angel had screamed at the demon, saying that Hank was still alive, that he would be able to fight. His angel had left pretty soon after, more voices yelling and fading, but it had struck him as odd.

Alive? He wasn't alive. He had died. Right? Something had happened and he had died… or had he? He didn't know. He barely could think, let alone figure out if he had died.

But he had been so _sure_. Something in him had said he had died. Why was he so sure, though? What had happened?

Slowly, after much time passed, his angel growing more and more frantic with Hank, begging him to fight, Hank recalled that night. The events that had happened. Connor. His brother. Connor's people. It all came flooding back, and with that, the rest of his memories came with it. The fog receded. Not enough to let him wake. But enough that he wasn't confused any longer. He knew what was happening.

And he was alive.

 _Alive_. Not dead. Not in Hell. Or Heaven. Or any other final resting place. He was alive. And in a hospital, if he had to assume.

And the doctors wanted to take him off life support.

He supposed it made sense, in his addled brain. How long had he been out? A lot of time had passed, he felt. He tried hard to fight, but it was so hard. His brain hurt. His heart hurt. His stomach hurt. It was all too much. It would be so easy to give in. To actually die, like he'd thought. To face the sweet embrace of death.

But…

But how could he leave his angel? His Connor? He couldn't. He couldn't leave Connor, not now, nor ever. Connor was everything. And Connor was so sad. He could hear it in his voice. Connor would cry, so often. And it killed him to know he was the cause.

So he kept fighting. And then, one day, he was able to move his hand. Alice has been there, sweet Alice, and she had been so excited. She'd called for her mother, who had called for the doctors. After that, no one suggested he get off life support. He was fighting. He was alive.

Connor had cried so hard when he'd been told that Hank had moved. Hank wanted to move again, to hold Connor, to make all the pain go away. But he couldn't. He could just lie there, trapped in his mind, wanting to break free but unable to.

He slept a lot. He didn't know how he knew he slept, as it all felt so similar, but he thought he was sleeping. For one, nothing happened then. No sound. No pain. Nothing. Just… nothing. Frankly, it scared him. A lot. The idea of nothing… it wasn't as nice as he'd once thought. When he thought of death and the nothing he had once expected… it had comforted him, once. Now it scared him. He didn't like sleeping.

Connor kept him awake. Connor would speak to him for hours and Hank clung to that. Clung to Connor. He had to. Connor was everything. So amazing. So kind. So wonderful. All those adjectives, the synonyms for perfect and good and bright… that was Connor.

The pain gradually started to fade. He noticed it one day, when Connor spoke about Jericho, that he hated having to return there, leaving Hank alone every night, that Hank noticed the pain. Or, the lack of it. Well, not lack. It was still there, don't get him wrong. But it… it hurt less. Not as bad. And as the days passed, it faded more. Well, he thought the days were passing. It was easier to tell, now. Connor would come each day and leave each night. He would take breaks, but only to allow the others to visit in privacy. And to take his much needed time off. Watching a coma patient must be hard work, Hank figured.

As the pain faded, the more Hank could move. The first time he was able to squeeze Connor's hand, it felt like magic. Connor had cried again, but this time out of pure joy. He'd kissed Hank, then, softly, sweetly. It was… everything. The doctors had objected, but it fueled Hank.

It was hard to focus while in the coma. He knew it. It was so fuzzy, and everything felt like he was underwater, or had cotton stuffed in his head. Or both. But he had enough of his wits about him to know he had to wake up. He needed to get back to Connor. So he could hold him. And kiss him. And do other things that Alice would never learn about with him. He needed Connor like he needed air.

So he fought. And he kept fighting. And, one day, he opened his eyes for longer than a split second.

Connor was sitting there, eyes closed, frown deep on his beautiful face. Alice was sitting next to him, reading another of her stories. Kara was nowhere to be found, but he figured she was taking a break. Kara, Alice, and Connor were his biggest visitors. He'd sometimes get visits from Markus or Ben, even Chris or Luther, but they were few and far between.

He supposed they all were busy. From what he could gather, from the news articles that Alice would read him sometimes, to the snippets Connor would let loose, the government was in shambles as investigation after investigation was launched into Cyber. It honestly surprised him. He'd thought it would be harder. Yeah, they had evidence, but when had that stopped the U.S. government? But it was being taken seriously. The FBI, the section that was not under Cyber's control, was investigating the part that was. The government was rearranging itself as it was found that more and more people were involved in the conspiracy than one would have thought. The US population was horrified at the events, which likely what drove the attempt to rectify the situation.

Anyway, all of that probably made it hard for Markus and his other friends to visit. And that was fine. He loved the time he got to spend with Connor. And Alice, the sweet thing she was. Even Kara was nice to spend time with, though he didn't know her well.

And so, when he opened his eyes and saw his two favorite visitors, he couldn't stop the small smile that wanted to rise on his face. He was glad the breathing mechanism he'd had had to wear for ages was finally gone. They'd found that he was finally well enough to breathe on his own what he assumed was a few days ago. It took a minute, but eventually Alice looked up and saw his eyes were open. Hank had wanted to speak, but his voice was dry and dead. And he couldn't even bring his thoughts together enough to speak, even if he wanted to. Which he did. Greatly.

Still, her eyes had widened and she let out an excited gasp. Connor's eyes opened at that, wondering what had happened that had excited her so.

"Alice? Are you alri-"

Connor cut out, eyes going to Hank, widening when he saw Hank's baby blues. Hank tried to widen his smile, but his face wouldn't cooperate, the muscles tired and sore. And soon, too soon, he felt his eyes slipping shut. Alice had run to get a doctor, but Connor was just holding his hand, voice excited as he spoke to Hank. But Hank couldn't hear. He passed out, back to the oblivion of unconsciousness.

He opened his eyes several times after that. Sometimes for only a few seconds before passing out again, but sometimes for whole minutes. Fowler has actually been there one time, which had surprised Hank. He hadn't recalled hearing Fowler come to visit at all. But, Fowler was always quiet, when he didn't have to yell as the captain. Maybe… maybe he had been visiting. He had looked comfortable in the chair when Hank saw him, fast asleep. Hank seemed to catch people asleep a lot. It was tiresome. But it was nice. Knowing his old friend had visited. Knowing he hadn't been abandoned by his former (or maybe still current?) friend.

Several more days passed after that. The New Year came and went, Hank noticed, a Happy New Year banner hanging over the doorway. Apparently he had first opened his eyes for real on Christmas Eve. Fitting.

That was another interesting thing. He always had a ton of presents on his desk. So many he didn't know what to think about it. Connor told him once, when he saw him looking, that it was from the people he'd help free. Connor had made sure that Hank's story was told. That the world knew that Hank had freed them all, at great personal cost. It had made Hank smile, before he passed out again.

The first day he stayed awake for longer than just a few minutes, had been a Tuesday. He remembered because it was on the calendar, which he had been staring right at. No one had been there, which was fitting. He had stayed awake for fifteen minutes, trying to make his voice work, before he fell asleep. Not unconscious, but sleep. He had dreams, now. They were different to his unconsciousness. The dreams were strange, very colorful and bright, but good. Nice. Better than the nothing of unconsciousness.

The next time he was awake longer than a few minutes, Connor had been there. Which Hank had felt so relieved for that he actually cried. A single tear had rolled down his face, which Connor had carefully wiped away. Connor smiled at him so sweetly and kissed his cheek softly. Hank had wished he'd kiss his lips again, but Connor tended to refrain from that. For some reason.

Connor had been overjoyed when Hank had stayed awake for a whopping 20 minutes.

And then, the next day, he stayed awake for 23.

The more time that passed, he longer he stayed awake. The doctors would run tests, would poke and prod him, ask him questions, but he still couldn't speak. But he was trying. The doctors gave him medicine, which was supposed to help with his throat, which it did. A week after he first woke for longer than half an hour at a time, multiple times a day, he spoke his first word.

It was to Alice. She had been reading to him, again, and was leaving for the day. She told him she had a math test in the morning, her nose crinkling at the thought. Hank let out a breath, which signified laughter for him, causing Alice to smile. Hank had smiled back, and decided to try and speak. He tried not to speak around the others, yet, leaving that for his sessions with the doctors, but he decided he needed to try.

"Th-th… tha-than… thanks," Hank rasped, voice ragged and rough. But it was something. Alice had looked overjoyed, hugging Hank carefully to not aggravate his still healing wound. Apparently the bullet had hit his spleen, which had needed surgery to repair. It had left him with a large wound that had mostly healed, but still ached from time to time.

It had been on his two month anniversary of being admitted to the hospital, January 23rd, that he finally spoke his first full sentence.

It had been to Connor. Hank had practiced it over and over, voice halting and raw, until it was perfect. Then, when Connor had brought Hank a meal he had made from the facility, warm and perfect, Hank had said the four words he'd practiced so hard.

"Con, I love you."

It had hurt to say- physically, not emotionally- but it was worth it to see how Connor's eyes lit up, happier than he'd ever seen the kid before. Connor had kissed him deeply after that, making Hank's toes curl deliciously. Connor had breathed back, against his lips, that he loved Hank too. Connor always said that, before he left, but this time it felt better. Stronger. It made Hank grin like an idiot, so glad he had been able to tell Connor the words that had been trapped within him for months.

It was on a cold February morning that Hank was finally cleared to go back to the facility.

It had made his heart soar. Yeah, he had to go back to the facility, his time of which had been extended by six months following his actions during the revolution as Connor called it, but it was better than the hospital. Yeah, Perkins had been arrested after it had been made known he was helping Cyber, so his charges from punching the man were dropped, but Hank had still escaped. And Rose (and Fowler, Hank suspected) felt it would do him good to spend more time in the facility. Which… maybe they were right. Two of his months had been spent while in the hospital anyway, which left him only four months left. And Connor was the same.

The day he had returned to the facility, in a wheelchair since his legs still were weak from lack of use, a party had been thrown for him. Apparently all of the patients had demanded it, everyone pitching in to make the place look nice for him. Hank had almost cried when he saw it, but stopped himself at the last moment, scowling. But it had touched him deeply.

The best part, though, was the fact Ben had come to the party. And not just Ben. Hank was not ashamed to admit he'd cried, hard, when Sumo had come bounding in, whining, tail wagging a mile a minute as he attacked his owner with kisses and love. He had missed Sumo so much while in the hospital and had been so happy that he finally could see his boy. Connor had grinned at him, eyes so tender as he watched Hank play with Sumo, making Hank suspect he might have had something to do with Ben's visit.

After that, life returned mostly to normal. Markus still visited as often as he could, though he no longer had time to run any classes. He was busy making laws and fixing the government, the US population rallying around him like his people did. Simon, North, and Josh still remained at the facility, though, making sure everything was going well for them all. And the numbers at the facility only grew as more and more of their people arrived, seeking help, wondering how to adjust to their new world.

The strangest thing Hank found was the weird relationship Markus, North, and Simon had found themselves in. Hank had always known something was up between North and Markus, and had also known that Simon had a thing for Markus too, but he hadn't figured that would end well for them all. But, they had found a way to make it work. North and Simon didn't get along quite as well as they both did with Markus, but they were good enough friends (and loved Markus enough), to not feel threatened by the other. Hank figured that, hey, if they're happy, why not?

Speaking of happy, Hank thought as he looked down at the tuft of brown hair nestled under his chin, Hank was currently very happy. Connor was sitting on his lap as he lounged in his new recliner, drawing absentminded pictures on his chest. Hank chuckled, his voice still raw but getting better by the day.

"You enjoying yourself?" Hank questioned, stroking Connor's hair with his free hand, the other hand flipping through the channels on the brand new TV Markus had gifted Connor and Hank for their new room (on the ground floor, to help Hank while he still healed). The new room was more spacious than their old one, a thank you gift from Rose and Markus for their help. But, best of all, it only had one bed. Which, the pair made great use of, quite often. Hank couldn't help the wicked grin on his face as he recalled just how they'd used it last night, Connor on top of him, so beautiful as he rode him for hours. Well. Not hours. Hank wasn't exactly young. But it had still felt amazing.

Hank felt Connor hum against his chest, the kid (and he really, _really_ had to stop calling him kid, especially with their late night activities) snuggling closer to his chest.

"Yes. You're very comfortable," Connor hummed happily, nuzzling him like a fucking cat. Hank just chuckled again, catching the hand that was drawing the absentminded shapes, kissing it gently. It currently was early March, a little under a month since he had returned to Jericho. And he was so happy he didn't know how to contain it, his lips finding Connor's, knowing he didn't deserve this but not giving a single fuck. Maybe he didn't deserve it. Maybe he would never be good enough to deserve it. But maybe… maybe it wasn't about deserve. Maybe, just maybe, it was just about love. And who they wanted to be with. And, damn it all, but Connor seemed to want him. To love him. And that was enough for Hank.

The two kissed for long minutes, Hank's hands running up and down Connor's back. He loved this. He loved him. This was the best feeling, Hank decided. He never wanted this to end.

"I love you, Con. So fucking much. So much," Hank whispered, moving his lips to kiss Connor's hair, holding the kid close, closer than he'd ever thought possible. Connor did his best to nuzzle ever closer, like he was trying to open him up and snake inside. Which, honestly, was a disturbing thought that he quickly pushed away.

"I love you too, Hank. I'm so glad you're here. I… I can't imagine not having this," Connor whispered back, voice breaking at the end. Hank felt his throat tighten as well, arms grasping Connor impossibly tighter.

He'd thought the same thing. So often. Had Connor not been able to carry him out of CyberLife Tower… had he not gotten him to the hospital as fast as possible… had Hank not fought as hard as he did to survive, had things been just a little different… he wouldn't be here today to have this.

Though, maybe he had died. Maybe this was Heaven, he thought, kissing Connor's head once more. He didn't know. But he was happy. So happy.

And he still missed Cole. He'd always miss Cole. But… he could finally move on. Could finally find happiness again. And love. So much love.

He could have lost this. No, he could have never fucking had this. He would never complain about life again, because life had given him Connor. And that was worth anything life could throw at him.

"I know kid. I know. But I'm here. You're here. Sumo will be here tomorrow, along with Alice and Kara. Markus said he might visit, Simon too. We're all here, babe. And we're all alive. All of us," he muttered, eyes closing. One of the many problems that still lingered for Hank was that he got tired a lot easier nowadays. He didn't know if it was his old age catching up to him, or if it was the coma that was still affecting him, but he was always tired.

More than that, though, was the fact that his legs were still weak, the physical therapy the facility provided helping only somewhat. Apparently two and a half months lying in a hospital bed led to atrophied legs. Go figure.

North, surprisingly, was the most helpful with that particular issue. It seemed that helping them free her people had been enough to finally warm her to him. And now they were very happy to snark at one another, very pleased when they pissed the other off. But it was all good natured. Not like it had been. She helped him with his legs, helping him move and gain the muscle he had lost back. He snarked at her, teasing her and her hobbies. It was nice.

He would also still get phantom pains every now and then. Usually in his gut. He'd wake from a nightmare, back on that night but it had ended differently, Connor the one getting shot, Hank having shot the wrong person, Connor bleeding out… dying…

His wound would ache for hours after he awoke, Connor whispering sweet nothings as he tried to calm his boyfriend down.

Boyfriend. Heh. Even the thought of it made him grin so wide, mind abandoning any negative thoughts he'd previously had, hand trailing up and down Connor's back and sides. Connor hummed again, happy to get the treatment. Hank abandoned the TV completely as he kissed Connor again, the kid mewling with pleasure. He was such a cat, Hank thought with a chuckle, fully expecting Connor to start purring any second now. Connor pulled away from the kiss, pouting at him.

"What are you chuckling at?" Connor asked with fake suspicion, using his arms to hoist him up, away from Hank's chest. Hank didn't let that stand, though, snaking his arms around Connor's torso and pulling him close. Connor resisted for a moment, but eventually gave in with a huff, going back to his previous, favorite spot.

"You. You're so much like a cat, you know? All I got to do is stroke you the right way and you're pudding in my arms," Hank chuckled, hands massaging lower than he had a minute before. Connor just pressed back against him, grinding against his hands, humming pleasantly.

"Hmmm. Is that so? And would you do this with a cat?" Connor asked, before doing something a cat would decidedly _not_ do.

Hank couldn't help but smile, after, as Connor laid satiated in his arms, sleeping softly, body spent after Hank had teased him for half an hour. While he may be old, he knew a thing or two to keep his lovers happy. And he wanted to keep Connor happy for a long, long time.

So this was his life now. It was not what he'd ever thought it would be. He'd never expected Connor. He'd never expected to be happy. Not like he currently was. He watched Connor sleep, marveling at the beauty he held in his arms. The masterpiece. Who somehow wanted an old fuck like him. It was amazing.

Things wouldn't be perfect. There were still problems with Cyber and the government, the whole system being reorganized to fix the mistakes. Hank and Connor would have some challenges to face, like what they'd do when they got out.

But that was something to worry about later. Right now, right here? This was perfection. This was his Heaven. He'd never give this up, for anything in the world.

He was glad that bullet hadn't been an inch to the right, a year ago. He was glad that woman had been walking by his house that day, had heard the gunshot. He was glad he had been saved.

Because he sure would have missed this.

Yeah.

Sure would have missed this.


End file.
